


And then they went fishing

by legolastariel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fear, Feels, First Kiss, First Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of feels even, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-zombie au, Separation Anxiety, Sleeping Together, Slow Build, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 133,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: 16-year-old Daryl Dixon has given up hope to ever get out of theTerminustrailer park and away from his abusive father Will.Little does he know that his life is going to change drastically when he meets 15-year-old Rick Grimes, son of a wealthy family, who just moved to theHilltop Estates, the fancy new development on the other side of town.Worlds seem to collide, but despite their different backgrounds Rick and Daryl have more in common than they know.Both families have their problems, both boys have their sorrows and a secret they can't tell (and it's not being gay LOL) and they both desperately need a friend.And then a serious incident changes both of their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first TWD AU! Have been wanting to try that for so long, so I'm really excited now.
> 
> First of all, thanks to my beta staceykc, who has beta'ed this entire work during a vacaction with her family (her husband is gonna hate me forever) and the long car ride back home, with three bored, carsick and teething kids in the backseat. You are my hero! Hugs!
> 
> The locations in this story are fictional, although a town named New Hope does exist in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. But I just borrowed the name, because it fit the story.

_**And then they went fishing**_

 

_ The more things change, the more they stay the same. _

Rick knew this was the gospel truth the moment his family had arrived at their new home. The impressive entrance to this brand-new development was flanked by two thick marble columns and adorned by a stylish sign that read in golden letters: _Hilltop Estates._ They had got to be kidding him.

They had left their old home in Trenton, New Jersey. Had moved to New Hope, Pennsylvania, a small town north of Philadelphia, in the hopes that a new state, a new neighborhood, a new job for Rick’s dad Jim and a new school for Rick would help leave it all behind. Start over, make things better, heal this family.  
But now, half a year later, it was obvious that they had followed a mirage. It was impossible to leave sorrows, problems and memories behind by merely changing the location. They brought them along to Pennsylvania and nothing had changed. Not one single thing. Save perhaps for the fact that Rick was even more alone than he had been before.   

Even before the boxes had been unpacked his dad had been on his cell again, calling his new employer, and Rick couldn’t help the impression that he had stayed on that phone for the past six months straight. He barely ever saw his father without it, just the way it had been back in Jersey. If Jim Grimes was home at all and not in some meeting, at appointments with clients or golfing with his partners from the law office, he was talking on the phone to people he apparently considered more important than his wife Catherine and his 15-year-old son.   
Even when he was home, he was not. And whatever Rick would have wanted and _needed_ to talk to his father about never found any room, any _time_ in Jim’s life. 

He was a good man nevertheless. Rick told himself so time and again to be able to still believe in it. His dad worked 24/7 to provide a good living and there wasn’t a thing that money could buy Rick and his mom were missing. Jim Grimes had just forgotten at one point how to be a father and a husband, next to being a successful lawyer. He forgot how to have fun, how to relax, how to distinguish between his work and things that were _really_ important. And then, maybe he had to in order to move on, to put the past behind himself, to find a meaning in the present and hope for the future. They all had their load to carry and while Rick and Catherine would have needed him one way or the other, maybe he didn’t find in them what _he_ really needed.

Who could have blamed him? What kind of support were a teenage boy and a mentally unstable and weak person like his mom? 

Catherine Grimes was a beauty with her big azure blue eyes and the long, thick blonde curls. She was slim and perfectly shaped and walked with the lightness and grace of a deer.   
But these days those pretty eyes were clouded over by sorrow and pain and too often just stared blankly ahead without really seeing anything. She was taking antidepressants that left her numb most days and she, too, was never really _there._  
How can you expect support and warmth from a wife, who looks right through you? How do you tell your teenage worries to a mother, who can barely shoulder her own problems?   
Catherine was fragile, absent-minded, lost in her own world and more days than not just sat brooding on the back porch, stared into the distance where she saw something no one else was able to see and cried silently. Nothing and nobody was able to pull her out of the dark abyss she had fallen into and Jim as well as Rick had stopped trying. They all needed each other and yet could not supply the help that was required to end this vicious circle of running and hiding and hoping for a miracle. 

Jim had fled into his work, which distracted him and gave him something to do, while Catherine went through the motions from day to day without really knowing why. And Rick? He was caught in between, lost and alone in the silence, feeling like he was screaming at the top of his lungs without anyone ever hearing him. 

 

*****

 

Daryl Dixon would have wished for silence, for his father to ignore him, if only for one single day. Wasn’t it funny how one man’s curse could be another man’s blessing?

It was late, probably past midnight, but Will Dixon didn’t care about other people’s weird desire to sleep at that time of the day. If he felt the need to yell and rampage, he would, no matter who heard him or what time it was. Who’d call the cops in this neighborhood? And even if someone did, they probably wouldn’t even come.

The _Terminus_ trailer park was the end of the line. Nobody, who had ended up here or had the ill fate of being born into this ghetto was likely to ever leave it. The place had a reputation and it stuck to its inhabitants like a stigma that was impossible to shed.  
It was a waste of time to apply for a job anywhere, because as soon as the address came up the job was already taken, dollars to donuts. Not that most of the people living here had ever applied for a job at all. Working themselves to death wouldn’t be their problem – alcohol, drugs, violence or suicide however were likely options to leave this place after all.   
There were days 16-year-old Daryl wondered which it would be for him and his dad one day. Whether he would even live to see Will Dixon drink himself to death or if his dad would have gotten him killed long before that.

Today was one of the days the older Dixon had sure tried his best to be successful in ending his son’s miserable life.   
When he had come home from his bender that night, he had expected to find something in the fridge. That wasn’t asking too much for letting the worthless little maggot live in his trailer and breathe precious air, right? That useless boy didn’t have anything else to do but be out there and _procure_ food, more booze and smokes.   
Will had made sure his older son Merle had learned hunting and stealing as soon as he was able to walk and it had been Merle’s job to pass that _knowledge_ on to his younger brother. How difficult could it be, for Christ’s sake?   
Merle had supplied well, but he wasn’t here now and Daryl … that boy was as useful as a hole in the head. There hadn’t been a thing in the fridge when Will had come back. Not even the fucking light had worked in there to illuminate the emptiness. And where had he found him? Hiding in his bed with the covers pulled over his head as though that was going to save him from being punished for his laziness. 

Daryl was hiding underneath the trailer now, suppressing a sob and shivering violently due to the pain as well as the fear that his dad would come out and look for him. 

He’d been out in the woods hunting earlier that day, desperately trying to catch something, because he was well aware of what was in store for him if he didn’t provide.   
But he had sprained his ankle after about an hour out there, cursing himself for being so clumsy. Still he had moved on, had followed the track of a deer deeper into the woods until the pain had gotten unbearable and he could barely walk anymore.  
It had taken him the better part of the afternoon to get back home and as soon as he had limped into the trailer park, kind and motherly Mrs. Morales from next door had spotted him and gently, yet insistantly urged him to sit down and cool the ankle.   
She was a gentle Mexican lady, but she had an iron will and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, even left her six-year-old son Louis with him for _company._ In other words, to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn’t leaving before she gave her approval.   
Miranda Morales had meant well, but she had done more harm than good. 

Daryl hadn’t caught anything that day, not even a single squirrel. There was no booze and only one cigarette left in an old pack Merle forgot.   
The boy knew what was going to happen before Will Dixon’s loud and heavy footsteps had approached the trailer. He couldn’t even run with the hurt ankle and there was no place to hide in the small, dirty shithole they were living in. All he could do was wait for the inevitable and try to escape to a beautiful and safe place in his mind, while his father’s belt had whipped down on his back.   
He had long since stopped crying when it happened and he knew better than to scream and alert the neighbors, although he doubted that anyone would have come to help.   
For the most part they didn’t give a damn or did the same to their own children and the rest, the few decent people around here, they were afraid of Will Dixon and they were wise to stay out of his business. 

The teenager curled into a ball and hugged himself, trying to calm down while he waited for the the pain to subside. 

Tomorrow would be a better day. His ankle would probably be better and he’d go into the woods again and surely this time he’d catch something – he had to. And one day Merle would keep his promise and get him out of here.

_ “Mark ma words, li’l brother”,  _ Merle had told him a year ago, _“ ‘m gonna find a job ‘n’ make enough money ta get us a place of our own. ‘n’ then we gonna get outta here ‘n’ never look back. We get ta finally live. You 'n' me, Daryl, the Dixon brothers. Ain’t no one gonna stop that from happenin’.”_

         “I trusted ya, ya dumbass”, Daryl muttered into the darkness. “Ya promised! Ya said ya was gonna get me outta here, but instead ya left me alone. Ya promised, Merle!”

A single tear ran down his cheek and stubbornly the boy wiped it away with the sleeve of his dirty and torn shirt. 

He couldn’t even blame his brother for not trying to keep his promise. He had.   
What he did blame him for was the _way_ he had tried to keep it. Maybe Merle had had the best intentions to find a decent job and make enough money to enable a new start some place else, but the older brother didn’t just come from the wrong side of town, he looked it, too. Merle was a petty criminal – had stolen in grocery and liquor stores and had swiped one or the other wallet and purse – but he had a face that yelled “bank robbery and armed assault”. No one trusted him. No one liked him. No one in their right mind would have given him an honest job.   
So Merle had found his own way of making money in order to leave _Terminus_ with his brother quickly and for good – he had tried to rob Tomas’ bar down the road.   
That was the place their old man and Merle himself had spent more than one night at, and where they had left quite a lot of money that they had better spent on food or new clothes.   
Merle had probably figured Tomas owed him and he knew the place was making good money on a Saturday night. He should have known Tomas was even worse scum than all the people living in _Terminus_ together. While Merle had only had a very impressive looking, yet rather harmless air rifle on him, Tomas had a _real_ gun – and he had held Merle at gun point long enough for the cops to show up eventually and book him.   
Air rifle or not, this _had_ been armed assault and that in addition to the minor offenses in his record had led to a five-year-sentence, no parole this time. 

So Merle was the only one of them who got out and left this place. Maybe he was even better off where he was now, for how could it possibly get any worse than this? If he was threatened and beaten where he was living now, at least it wasn’t by his own father. 

         “Damn ya, Merle. Ya never kept yer promises. Not one single one in all a’ ‘em years.”

Daryl let out his breath in a heavy sigh and cautiously ran two fingers over his face. He didn’t even have to see or feel it to know his lip was cracked, because the coppery taste of blood was evidence enough. The skin around his left eye was swollen and sensitive to his touch and the boy let out another sigh.   
Perfect timing. If it hadn’t been summer holidays anyhow, this would have meant no school for at least a week. He was going to sport an impressive black eye in the morning and while he was able to tell the people in _Terminus_ he had accidentally punched the crossbow he used for hunting in his face, one or two of his teachers might not have been so easily convinced.   
It wasn’t the best school in the county, but there were teachers there, who actually cared for the children in their care, whether they came from some middle class family or the ghetto. And child abuse was something especially teachers and the parents of the lucky kids at school did not tolerate.   
Daryl didn’t want questions or some social worker showing up on their doorstep. There was nothing anyone could have done to help him and if he was to cause any more trouble, there was no telling what his pa would do to him next. This had to remain a secret. What happened in _Terminus,_ stayed in _Terminus._  
School was a waste of time for him anyhow. What sense was there in learning about geography, if he would never go anywhere? What sense was there in learning about history, when people only ever repeated old mistakes and nothing ever got better? He had his own future to worry about, not the past of people long dead. There was no sense in learning about grammar or spelling, either. Even if he was to write a book on his pitiful life, who would want to read it? He could have written his last will, but there was nothing to bequeath, no one who would give a damn anyway, so why bother?   
Nothing he was able to learn at school would get him food on the table the next day or teach him how to survive Will Dixon. What he needed to learn was to track and hunt even better than he was already able to, shoot without ever missing, be even more quiet when following the game and not sprain any ankles in the future. He had to provide, become invisible when his father was in a bad mood, which was almost daily, and just survive somehow. He didn’t need any school for that. 

What he would have needed right now was someone to show him how to not lose hope, someone to give him a reason to go on at all. 

 

***

 

A week passed and the heat and humidity of the East Coast summer came to its peak when the temperatures moved beyond the 100°F mark that mid August day.   
Inside the Grimes’ residence however it appeared to be as cold as December and the running air conditioner had nothing to do with it. 

Rick had to get out of there. He felt as though he’d been frozen to the core by the isolation and silence in this house and although they had lived in this town for half a year now, he still hadn’t been able to make any friends or get acquainted enough to call this place _home._

Once in a while he had met with a few of the guys from school to go to the movies or just _hang out_ , but going to the movies or the mall wasn’t easy living in the middle of nowhere with no means of transportation.   
He depended on someone driving him, but his father was barely ever home and his mother was on valium more often than not these days, unable to walk straight, much less drive a car.   
Those other guys had gotten annoyed with Rick quite quickly and considered his lack of independence and mobility a major burden to their precious leisure time activities.   
Not that Rick would have cared all that much, since going to the movies or hanging out at some mall had bored him to tears after a while anyhow and he hadn’t really connected to either of those boys.  
They were idiots, whose only goal in life was wasting money and brag with their parents’ success. It was a steady competition of whose father drove the bigger car, which house had the most bedrooms and bathrooms, which pool was the largest, whose mom was the most popular and prettiest (as in, which one had the most plastic surgeries done yet) and who of them had the most expensive bike, cell, stereo, TV, computer and so on and so forth.   
It was tiring, shallow, exhausting, _stupid._  
Jim worked like a man possessed and made good money, but the Grimes weren’t nearly as rich as some of the other families and Rick never stood a chance in those verbal sparring matches. Not that he had ever attempted to.  
He would have loved to have a _real_ conversation with someone for a change. Someone who would talk about things money could _not_ buy, someone who was able to enjoy all the nice things that were for free and available to everyone and were invaluable nevertheless. 

Rick hadn’t set a foot into the woods ever since they moved here, but today would be the day. He had to get out of this house, out of this snobbish development, out of this town and away from all these people. A walk in the woods, listening to the birds sing and the shady and soft forest floor covered with dry leaves to rest on – a peaceful quietness, not a disturbing one, that’s what he needed right now. A place to breathe freely, to just enjoy the wind in his hair and the sun on his face and _forget_ , if only for a while. 

******

Daryl panted heavily and cursed under his breath, not for the first time since he had started to follow his game. Damn, that deer was as clever as it was fast, but most importantly it wasn’t in the least bothered by the sticky, hot air.  
It was shady under the green canopy of leaves, but that didn’t make the heat any more bearable. On the contrary. Between the trees there was no breeze and the treetops were like a roof that prevented the warm air to rise and circulate. It was a damn oven in there, the boy was eaten alive by mosquitoes and horseflies and had run out of water an hour ago. But he couldn’t give up, couldn’t go home without having caught anything – again. 

He wiped the sweat from his brows and leaned heavily against a tree for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him.   
The black eye had faded by now, but it was still noticeable to anyone who looked closely enough. It was a blessing and a curse alike that no one ever did. The new welts his father’s belt had left on his back were a map of reddish and itching streaks that burned, now that sweat had soaked his shirt. And once in a while, especially after running for hours, his ankle started to protest again, but there was no stopping.   
          
With a heavy sigh he pushed himself off the tree trunk and stumbled into the direction the deer had fled in. The next moment the world started to turn and go black around him, a myriad of dancing stars the last thing he saw before he dropped onto his knees, barely holding on to consciousness.   
This was no use. He had to find water first and take a break, cool off, catch his breath. Getting a heat stroke out here all by himself was anything but desirable. Despite feeling nauseous and dizzy and the pressing need to bring home something to eat today, a smile played around the boy’s lips for a moment. The lake!

There was a small forest lake nearby and it was his favorite place in the world. The water was crystal clear and swarming with fish that could multiply and grow unbothered around here, because save for Daryl no one ever came here.   
Years ago Merle had dragged an old boat to the lake for them to fish in, but they both were way better at hunting than at fishing and soon the old boat had sprung a leak and was an odd kind of _shore decoration_ now, sitting in the shallow water half sunken and slowly corroding. At first Daryl had considered asking Merle to remove it, but now he actually liked it just like that – it was a kind of idyllic picture and at the same time a symbol of nature’s superiority over mankind.  
Sometimes Daryl wondered if the world weren’t better off without people. Especially people like his pa, whose existence was totally and entirely useless and nothing but pathetic. Same as his own.   
Years from now the old boat would probably have sunken entirely or fallen apart, but the lake would still be here. And it would remain being here, swarming with fish, when the former owners of the old boat were long dead and forgotten.   
Daryl respected nature and appreciated it and he seemed to be rewarded for that with enough food most days and a place he could draw strength from and that felt more like _home_ than any other place ever could. Out in the woods and at that lake he felt like he belonged. 

The boy struggled back to his feet, slung the crossbow over his shoulder and headed towards the lifesaving waters with weary steps. 

He was grateful and surprised at the same time that no one else ever came out here. All the people living in town, especially those in the rich new development, apparently loved nature best when they were able to sit on their back porches with a cool drink and were able to look at it from afar.   
They moved to the country site to brag to their friends and families in the city how beautiful it was out here, how peaceful and quiet with fresh air, the woods and the meadows. But they wouldn’t dream of setting foot into _the wilderness_ and risk getting their designer clothes and expensive Italian shoes dirty. 

Daryl couldn’t help a contemptuous snort. Idiots. But all the better – the last thing he needed was those snobs trampling through the woods, scaring off his game or taint his favorite place in the world. 

 

He heard the loud and agitated voice long before he could see the shimmering water of the lake glitter through the trees, and his pulse rate picked up instantly.   
Raised voices always had that effect on him, especially when it was a male voice shouting, like now. 

         “God damnit! The hell’s the matter around here? Come on, you stupid …”

The rest of the tirade faded into an unintelligible cursing under the person’s breath while Daryl slowly drew closer, cautious to stay invisible in the shadows of the trees. 

The owner of the agitated voice was a boy about his age, who was frantically hurrying in each direction in turns, his arm raised as high as only possible with a cell phone in his hand, which apparently was the futile attempt to get a signal out here. 

         “Oh brother”, Daryl muttered to himself, “city boy lost in the woods and unable to survive without his damn cell.” 

He could have helped him, could have just walked over to that boy now and offer to point him into the right direction, but something had him stay put.   
He didn’t know who that was, had never seen him before, and Daryl didn’t trust easily. Why should he? People had never given him any reason to trust them. There was no telling if that boy was really alone and what he came out here for in the first place, so Daryl decided to wait a while and watch. See what kind of person he was dealing with.

 

Rick dropped his arm and drew a couple of deep breaths in order to calm his frantically beating heart. Damn.  
The moment he had stepped into these woods he had felt like Alice after she had dropped into the rabbit hole. This was another world, much more beautiful and enchanting than he had imagined. It wasn’t just trees and bushes. It was light cascading through the canopy in visible, glittering rays and wind playing with the leaves, whispering to him. Birds singing in countless voices that would have put any choir to shame and small animals rustling in the underbrush.   
It was magical and Rick had felt at peace, free and actually _happy_ like he hadn’t felt in months, maybe years.   
He hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. Had just proceeded deeper and deeper into the green wilderness without minding the way or the time or anything else than the beauty that surrounded him. When he had stepped onto the clearing and had found the small lake he had gasped in awe, for this must have been the most beautiful place he had ever seen.   
The lake was surrounded by trees save for an almost beach-like sandy shore to the side facing him. The water was clear and blue and was almost calling out to him to take a swim, refresh his body as well as his soul and forget about the rest of the world.   
And he might have – if a half sunken boat hadn’t reminded him that the rest of the world was still out there and that sooner or later he would have to go home. _Home._ Even before he had started to ponder whether or not the Grimes’ residence even deserved that name, he had realized with a twinge of panic that he had no idea how he got here, where exactly he was and how to get back.   
For the first time in hours he had taken his cell out of his pocket and hadn’t even been surprised to not have a signal. This was no-man’s-land. No one needed cell phone service out here – except maybe some dumbass from Jersey, who didn’t pay attention to where he was going.   
He recognized the spot where he had left the woods, but looking back to the front row of trees now, Rick realized that he had no idea in which direction to proceed from there. And if he took his chances and just followed his nose, he might end up running in circles or heading even deeper into these woods. This wasn’t Canada and it was unlikely for this forest to be as large as the ones they had up there, but large enough to get lost for … a night? Another day? Several days?   
Just the prospect of having to spend the night alone out here sent shivers down Rick’s spine despite the heat.

Well, there wasn’t much sense in panicking. He would think of something. Maybe he could climb one of the larger trees? Even if his cell still wasn’t working up there, he might have been able to see the town and get a bearing that way. Then again – he was probably as much of a navigator as the former captain of the little boat there. 

With a sigh Rick put the cell away and walked over to the lake. The water did look inviting and why let a good opportunity go to waste? He was hot, he was thirsty and he was lost. Nothing he could do about the latter, but he could take care of two out of three problems – that sure was a start. 

Daryl peeked around the large tree he was hiding behind and watched the other boy take his shoes and socks off and dip his toes into the water. 

         _“He’s gonna pull back”,_ he thought with an eye-roll.

He knew the water was cold, save perhaps for the shallow part surrounding the boat, but a city kid like that guy there was probably used to heated pools and hot bathtubs and would get chilblains if his drink was too cold.   
When he watched Rick walk further into the water without hesitation, Daryl lifted one eyebrow in appreciation. The other eyebrow followed when in the next moment the _city kid_ scooped some water into his hands and actually drank it, before repeating the motion and splashing the refreshing liquid into his face and over his head. This was new.   
Whenever Daryl had come across some of those rich kids in town, they had been styled from head to toe and wouldn’t want to be found dead with an unruly mess of curls like the boy over there was sporting now.   
And the peak of ridiculousness were those bottles of Evian and the likes, for the water they contained tasted no different than tap water or the water from this lake, yet cost an absurd amount of money. Daryl never thought he’d see the day one of _them_ would drink water from _his_ lake without so much as wrinkle his nose. 

A pretty nose as far as he was able to see from the distance. Pretty curls, too. And those bowlegs that now stuck knee-deep in the lake …

         _“The hell, Dixon. Ya got a heat struck after all?”_ Daryl chided himself. 

Where had those thoughts come from all of a sudden? 

The curly-haired boy stood motionless in the water for a moment and let his eyes wander over the smooth surface, then suddenly he tried to grab a fish that swam by. He didn’t even get close to it, but laughed when the water splashed in his face and he almost lost his balance.   
It was an amused, light laughter, but not quite as carefree as Daryl had expected.   
Before he could wonder about that, Rick turned around and walked back to shore. He ran his hand almost tenderly over the rail of the boat on passing it and said softly:

         “Stuck here, too, huh?” 

After he had dropped heavily onto the ‘beach’, he pulled out his cell once again as though a miracle had happened in the meantime and he’d be able to call for help, but of course that wasn’t the case. He was in trouble and had best think of something soon. Climb a tree after all?

         “Hey!”

The voice behind him had Rick almost jump out of his skin and he was on his feet in a flash. For a split second he was scared to death when he realized that he was all alone out here. No one knew where he was, no one would come to his aid and there was no telling what kind of people roamed these woods.   
A second later he relaxed. This _people_ was a boy about his age with shoulder-length dark, shaggy hair and a crossbow slung over his shoulder. Wait a second – a _crossbow_? 

Before Rick could follow that train of thought the other boy spoke again. 

         “Got a problem, dude?” 

That actually sounded funny and the boy’s voice was way deeper than Rick would have expected of someone his age. When he noticed the grin that spread over Rick’s face, Daryl’s shadow blue cat eyes narrowed even further.

         “Whadda ya grinnin’ at, jackass? I say somethin’ funny?” 

         “No. Sorry. I mean … no, I was just …”

         “Jeez, get a grip, man, will ya? Ain’t got all day. Ya need help now or what?” 

Rick breathed in deep to pull himself together. First the crossbow, then the voice and the way that guy was talking and now a clearly defensive attitude – Rick was taken off guard by all of that. This boy sure was different than the ones at school.

          “Yeah, I need help. I’ve lost my way.”

Daryl cocked his head and his long bangs fell away from his eyes long enough to cast the other boy a meaningful look.

         “There ain’t no such thing as losin’ yer way. Ya just gotta open yer eyes.”

Rick felt annoyance seethe deep down inside. Who the heck did that guy think he was? First he scared the shit out of him and now he was holding lectures instead of just showing him the way?

         “If you’re so damn smart, why don’t _you_ open _your_ eyes and tell me where I came from?”

Daryl shrugged entirely unimpressed.

         “Piece a’ cake. Just gimme a sec. Gotta have somethin’ ta drink first ‘n’ then ‘m gonna take ya greenhorn back home.”

While Daryl took a few thirsty gulps by dipping his face straight into the water without bothering to use his hands, Rick pulled his cell out one more time and started pacing the clearing for one last try.

         “Will ya stop that? Ya been ruinin’ the track enough already runnin’ ‘bout like a headless chicken.” 

He had pulled out his canteen and was refilling it, while he cast the _greenhorn_ a chiding glance.

         “How do you know I’ve been running about?” Rick asked suspiciously and got yet another shrug for an answer, while Daryl came walking towards him. 

         “Don’t take no genius ta see that. The place looks as if a bunch a’ wild boars ‘s been through here.” 

Rick opened his mouth to protest, but chose to ignore the comment when Daryl walked past him and started scanning the area. He crouched here, moved to another spot and looked closer there, before he pointed at the trees the next moment.

         “That way. Let’s go.” 

 

The first ten minutes they walked in silence, Daryl leading the way and Rick following him, praying to God that strange boy knew what he was doing. It would be bad enough having to spend the night out in the woods, but having to spend it with that guy after they had both gotten lost?    
Just now he crouched for the umpteenth time to inspect the ground, then nodded to himself wordlessly and pointed into a new direction, instantly taking the lead again.  
Rick couldn’t keep quiet a moment longer.

         “You’re shitting me, right? I don’t see a thing down there. Can you really tell where I walked?”

         “ ‘s easy. Ya been tramplin’ though here like an elephant. Coulda tracked ya when I ‘s three.” 

         “Looks like you spend lots of time in the woods then. Got nothing better to do?” 

Daryl stopped dead in his tracks and cast a dark look over his shoulder. It was deadly quiet for a moment and Rick couldn’t help the feeling that he had just put his foot in it with that guy. 

         “Sorry”, Rick said cautiously. “Looks like I said something wrong and …”

         “ _Looks like_ ya best kept yer mouth shut now, smartass, unless ya wanna be left standin’ here ta find yer way by yerself. _I_ know ma way home. Spend lots a’ time in ‘em woods, ya know.”

Pungent sarcasm. Maybe Rick deserved that now, although he wasn’t sure what he had said that was so terrible. 

They kept walking and Daryl found the track faster and easier as they proceeded. Rick was fascinated. He still didn’t see anything in between the dry leaves, the dirt and grass and layers of beechnuts and acorns, but Daryl apparently was able to read the forest floor like a map.    
As they were walking Rick secretly gave the other boy a scrutiny.   
One thing was more than obvious – he was not living in the _Hilltop Estates_ or any other place similar to the neighborhood Rick came from. The clothes were old and worn, dirty, sweaty and partially torn, and from the looks of it originally bought at Wal-Mart or some second-hand store.   
Just once, Rick couldn’t help thinking, just once he would have loved to be allowed an attire like that. No designer clothes, no expensive brands, no having to be neat and clean and tidy and _presentable_ any time of the day. He was tired of keeping up appearances 24/7, being under the watchful eyes of the neighbors, teachers, the kids at school and their parents, _everybody._  
It must have been great to be as free as that guy obviously was. Free to spend the day out in the woods, free to not give a damn about appearances and just do what was fun without having to live up to someone’s expectations at all times. 

         “Like your vest”, Rick said unexpectedly and he couldn’t even tell why he had said that. 

It was true though, he did like the other boy’s vest. It was made of black denim with white angel wings attached to the back and to Rick it looked downright _cool._  
Way cooler than his Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt, the Reebok shorts and Nike sneakers he was wearing. Even his casual leisure time attire probably cost more than all the clothes in that guy’s closet together, but that didn’t make them more comfortable or unique.   
Rick would have killed for one single special piece like that angel wing vest. One piece that was _him,_ distinguished him from the rest, gave him a personality of his own instead of being the-guy-in-brand-name-clothes-No.3645. 

Another probing glance out of those interesting narrow eyes ended his train of thought and had Rick sigh. Even the guy’s eyes and hair style weren’t mainstream like his. And he had a _crossbow_ , dear God. In comparison, Rick had to be the most boring teenager in the entire state of Pennsylvania. 

         “Thanks”, was all Daryl answered to the compliment on his vest and then pointed ahead. “Not much further.”

         “Honestly, it totally beats me how you find your way in these woods. Those trees all look the same to me.”

         “’s funny”, Daryl answered with a fond glance at the trees around them, “’cause actually there ain’t two alike. They all look different, ya just gotta pay attention.”

He stopped and then pointed to a small group of trees to their left.

         “See the white bark? Those are birch trees. They ‘s easy to distinguish from the others and there’s one among ‘em that musta been bent by somethin’ when it was young.”   
He swallowed thickly for a moment before continuing.   
“Grew towards the ground for a while as though it was … held down, hindered to grow towards the sun, bowin’ … “   
He breathed in deep and Rick sensed a change of mood, but kept quiet.  
         “It made a U-turn after that”, he nodded towards the tree. “As though whatever held it down just disappeared so it was able ta grow towards the light again.”

Rick cast him a glance from the side and furrowed his brow. There was something in the other boy’s voice that had Rick wonder if he was still talking about that tree at all.

         “Are ya even lookin’?” Daryl snapped at him, when he noticed Rick’s azure blue eyes on him instead of the tree he had pointed out.

         “Yeah, sure. And you’re right – looks like an S lying on its side. Or a rollercoaster or … “

         “Or a damn twisted birch tree. What’s the matter with ya?” 

Rick shrugged with an apologetic smirk.

         “My shrink had me do that free association thing for ages. You know, showed me a picture and I hadda say the first thing that came to mind. Guess that stuck. The shape of that tree just reminded me of …”

         “Ya have a shrink?” 

         “Had. Waste of time and money.” 

Daryl’s eyes grew large.

         “The hell ever for?”

Rick looked at the tip of his sneakers and for a moment his lips became a thin line.

         “Hadda talk to someone, I guess.”

         “Ya got no mom ‘n’ dad ta talk to? Brothers ‘n’ sisters?”

Again Rick shrugged.

         “Guess it’s them I hadda talk about.” 

         “Oh.” 

There was surprise as well as sympathy in Daryl’s inflection. Apparently not all that glistened was gold.   
Wordlessly he nodded in the direction they’d been headed in and took the lead again.

         “You know, I think it’s cool you know how to track”, Rick said suddenly after they had walked for a few minutes in silence.

         “Cool … sure.”

If Rick noticed the sarcasm, he didn’t let it show.

         “What did you learn that for? You been a boy scout or something?” 

Once again Daryl stopped dead in his tracks and cast him a look that made Rick feel like he had said something entirely stupid. And maybe he had.

         “I hunt”, Daryl said in the end before proceeding. “Deer ain’t standin’ by the roadside wavin’ and waitin’ for ya ta shoot it, so ya gotta be able ta follow the tracks.”

Rick laughed out loud.

         “Good point. – What’s your name?”  

         “Who wants to know?”

Rick cocked his head and picked up his pace to catch up with Daryl. Much that he liked the angel wing vest, he was growing tired of looking at it and following the other boy like a puppy. Why was he still so defensive and suspicious of him? Was it something he had done or said or was that guy just not trusting easily?

When he walked next to Daryl Rick looked at him from the side and said:

         “I’m Rick. Rick Grimes.”

         “Well, Rick Grimes, what were ya doin’ so far out in the woods if ya can’t track for shit?”

         “I needed some peace, had to be some place I can breathe. Guess I just …”

         “… hadda get away from it all?” Daryl ended his sentence and cast the other boy a surprised side glance.

Rick just nodded at a lack for words and for a long moment they looked each other in the eyes. On first sight they seemed to come from different worlds, but apparently they had something in common nevertheless.

         “Daryl.”

Rick lifted an eyebrow.

         “What?”

         “’s ma name, stupid. – Daryl.”       

Before Rick had a chance to reply, Daryl smacked his palm onto his arm and cursed under his breath.

         “Damn ‘squitoes.” He looked Rick over. “How come ya ain’t gettin’ bit, while I get eaten alive here? Ya ‘squito-proof or somethin’?” 

         “Nobite”, Rick said with a frown, “it’s a simple insect repellent …” 

He stopped when Daryl grunted and just walked on. A reaction that puzzled Rick, while he followed the other boy once again.   
There didn’t seem to be too much he was able to say that was not _wrong_ in some way. What the heck was it now? Daryl asked him a question and he answered it. It was the truth and no big deal, either. Was it against any rule or law around here to use Nobite?   
For a second he took a closer look at his companion and it struck him all of a sudden.   
Those worn and dirty clothes weren’t just Daryl’s “day out in the woods hunting” attire – his entire wardrobe probably looked that way. And while Rick looked like a model for expensive sports wear, a simple bottle of repellent seemed to be unaffordable for Daryl and his folks. Rick had never felt more overdressed – and like a complete jerk rubbing it it like that.  

They stepped out of the woods and onto a wide meadow at that moment and the curly-haired boy couldn’t help a relieved sigh. Daryl pointed straight ahead to the development about half a mile across the meadow.

         “There ya go – _Hilltop_.”

Rick cast him a surprised glance and nodded to the right, where about a mile away the outskirts of New Hope lay bathed in the late afternoon sun.

         “What makes you think I live in _Hilltop_ and not in town?”

         “Had a hunch”, Daryl grumbled. “Take care, Rick Grimes. And next time ya go on a hike in ‘em woods, make sure ta bring some breadcrumbs.”

Before Rick could reply that breadcrumbs had been as helpful to Hansel and Gretel as his cell had been to him, Daryl had already headed back into the shadows of the trees and had disappeared from his sight. 

\- TBC -


	2. Chapter 2

Days passed and Daryl caught himself bending his steps toward the lake more often than necessary. More than once he let his game get away by deserting the track and taking a detour towards the lake instead, as though he was magically drawn to that place.

After he had dropped the newbie off the other day, he had headed back into the woods and for the first time in hours had thought about the reason for him being there again. Hunting. Food. The trouble he’d be in with his old man, if he showed up without any dinner.  
The trail of the deer had long since run cold and it was probably half way to the state of New York, so he had settled for checking his snares and looking out for some squirrels. That would have to do.   
It had taken him longer than usual to make his round and in the end one rabbit and two squirrels were the meager result of a whole day of hunting, but Daryl hadn’t even cared. Despite the embarrassing quarry he had felt … good. _Good_? Maybe even better than good – it was hard to find a proper word for how he felt, because it was entirely new to him. One thing was for sure, though – he couldn’t stop thinking about Rick Grimes. 

He was different, despite most obviously being one of those rich kids. Still, Rick having been out here at all distinguished him from the rest. The others just hung out with each other, wasting time with their Playstations or any other kind of technical devices instead of being outdoors and enjoying the beauty of nature around them.   
         Rick had been in the woods and had enjoyed being there, save for the fact that he’d been lost. The image of the other boy’s frantic running about with his cell still brought a grin to Daryl’s face.   
And Rick had talked to him like an equal. He hadn’t bossed him around or sneered at him for wearing old clothes, hadn’t called him names or wrinkled his nose about having to breathe the same air as a Dixon – and he had _asked_ for help, instead of offering money to be taken home.   
Daryl had witnessed often enough how rich people thought flashing a couple of bills would get them anything they wanted, because they were raised in the belief that everything and _everyone_ had their price. And most people living in _Terminus_ would have done anything for a couple of bucks that would get them and their family through another day.   
Daryl had his pride despite being poor. He could survive without their money, would never be anybody’s bitch. And Rick had earned his respect simply by doing right by him. No one else ever had before.

As though his feet had developed a mind of their own, Daryl had found himself at the lake the next day, hoping deep down inside to meet Rick again, but of course that hadn’t happened.   
Rick had just needed some time out and had almost ended up getting lost, why would he ever risk heading into the woods again? And even if he did – he had found the lake by mere chance and couldn’t track if his life depended on it. He would never find his way back here. Too bad they hadn’t left the breadcrumbs …

A week had passed since that afternoon and Daryl had dismissed the idea of ever seeing Rick again. Although they lived in the same town, sort of, they could just as well have been from different planets. People from _Terminus_ and residents of _Hilltop_ would never be friends. Still it made Daryl sad and he couldn’t help going to the lake time and again, as though an echo of these few special hours with the other boy was still palpable there. 

 

His heart skipped a beat instantly when he peeked through the front row of trees and saw someone standing close to the water. He had only met Rick once, but those curls and the bowlegs left enough of an imprint to recognize him instantly. Besides – who else would come here? 

         “Hey”, Daryl said gently in order not to startle Rick as he approached him. “Didn’t expect ya back.”

The other boy turned around and flashed him a smile.

         “Really? Then why did you leave me the breadcumbs?”

Daryl looked at him deadpan.

         “Dunno what ya talkin’ ‘bout.” 

But Rick noticed a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he said that.

Of course, Daryl knew exactly what he was talking about. The day he had come to realize that Rick had no chance of finding his way even if he wanted to, he had gone back to give fate a nudge, so to speak.  
He had marked the trees from the spot he had left Rick all the way to the lake. First he had thought about an X or maybe an R, so Rick would know the trail was meant for him, but he couldn’t take the chance of anybody else seeing those conspicuous markings and finding his secret hiding place. So in the end he had used his hunting knife to scrape off just a small round patch of the tree barks. No one, who wasn’t looking for _breadcrumbs_ would even notice them. 

If Rick was as special as he thought he was, he would see them and the curly-haired boy being here now proved Daryl right. 

         “So,” he said to Rick while he lowered himself onto the sandy ground near the water with the other boy following suit, “ya got nothin’ better ta do on a Saturday afternoon?”

         “Don’t you?”

         “Ya always answer a question with a question?”

         “Like you just now?”

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

         “Cut it out, jackass”, Daryl said after composing himself, “I asked first.”

         “Fair enough.” Rick breathed in deep and looked out onto the lake. “Guess I do have something else to do, but not really anything _better._ Promised my dad to mow the lawn this afternoon, so I gotta head back soon.”

         “Ain’t that fun?” 

Rick cast him a surprised glance.

         “Mowing the lawn? – Hell, no. That’s boring as shit. Did your dad never have you mow the lawn?”

         “What lawn? I live in a trailer park, man.”

         “You’re lucky.” 

It was Daryl’s turn to cast his companion a surprised glance. That sure was a way to look at things he had never come across before.   

         “So, if ya got somethin’ ta do, whadda ya doin’ out here again?”

         “I like it here. It’s peaceful, gets my mind off things and … truth to be told, I was hoping you’d be here.

Daryl’s heart made a leap of joy, but the next moment suspicion got the better of him. Old habits were hard to break.

         “Why? Did I get yer expensive pants torn the other day and ya wanna sue me now?”

Rick laughed at the remark, but fell quiet quickly when he noticed the deadpan on the other boy’s face and thought he heard a tinge of bitterness in Daryl’s inflection.

         “No, course not”, he reassured his companion with a frown. “It was just nice talking to you the other day, that’s all.” 

         “Ya gotta come here for a chat? Got no friends ta talk to?”  
          
         “They’re back in Trenton. We just moved here.” 

That was a lie and he knew it. ‘Just’ sounded like that move had been seven days ago, not seven months. Maybe the fact that he’d been unable to make friends in over half a year sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

         “Ya miss ‘em?” Daryl asked with a sympathetic air.

         “Yeah. Especially Shane. We’ve been friends since kindergarten and he was pretty much the one I used to talk to.”

         “Can’t he visit? Ain’t that far to Trenton.”

         “He’s spending the summer in Europe with his parents. Pretty cool, huh?”

         “Wouldn’t know. Ain’t never even been outside a’ Pennsylvania, let alone to Europe.”

Rick absentmindedly drew circles in the sand with his index finger and sighed.

         “No, I meant it’s cool he’s spending time with his parents.” 

He fell quiet for a moment, well aware of Daryl’s eyes resting on him, then he asked in the attempt to change the topic:

         “How about you? Looks like you usually head into the woods by yourself. No friends who like coming out here?”

         “Nah, they all rather went ta Europe, too”, Daryl replied.

Again there was an odd mixture of humor and bitterness in his infection that Rick wasn’t able to gage. With a shrug the curly-haired boy pulled two cans of Coke out of the backpack he had brought and handed one to Daryl, before touching them together for a toast:

         “To Europe.” 

A smile tugged at Daryl’s lips.

         “Yer an idiot. Anyone ever told ya that?”

He mirrored Rick’s gesture, then popped his can and took a large swig of the Coke. 

         “But any idiot bringin’ treats ‘s welcome in ma woods.” 

 

******

          
Another week passed in which they didn’t meet. At least not in person. They both headed out to the lake every other day, but always missed each other. Some days Rick had already left again when Daryl showed up, other days it was the other way round, but still they felt as though they had spent time with each other.   
They knew the other one had been there, for they had found a new way of communication – sort of. 

It had all started when Daryl had arrived at the lake early in the week. At first he had been disappointed that Rick wasn’t there, but the moment he had stepped out of the shadows of the trees and onto the clearing he had instantly noticed a small object sticking in the sand, marked by a make-shift flag next to it. 

         “Ain’t no fuckin’ golf course, Grimes”, Daryl had muttered to himself, but he had said it with a smile as he had approached the small flag. 

When he had picked the item up that Rick had left for him, the smile had turned into a wide grin. Nobite! Despite himself he had to laugh and at the same time felt incredibly touched.   
A gift. Just because. It wasn’t his birthday or any other occasion that would call for a present. It was just a bottle of insect repellent and yet it was the most precious thing anyone had ever given to him. It was a kind gesture from someone who barely knew him, but cared enough to make sure he was safe from these blood-thirsty monsters out here. Rick wanted him to feel better and you didn’t do a thing like that for just anybody. Right? 

         “Thanks, man”, Daryl had whispered with the precious present in his hand. 

He had used it immediately, before stuffing the bottle into his waistband and taking a closer look at the make-shift flag.   
Rick had wanted to make sure Daryl saw the Nobite when he came here and had apparently tied his handkerchief to a branch he had stuck in the ground. The dark-haired boy had taken the piece of cloth off the stick and raised his eyebrow.   
That wasn’t just a simple handkerchief – it was made of the finest cotton he had ever felt, deep burgundy red in color and it was almost disappointing that there was no monogram. 

         “Wonder if they use silk ta wipe their ass in _Hilltop_ ”, he had grumbled, shaking his head. 

Absentmindedly he had run his finger over the precious fabric again, before stuffing the piece of cloth into the back pocket of his pants. He would return it to Rick next time he saw him. 

 

When Rick had visited the lake the next day, he instantly noticed that the Nobite and flag were gone, but instead one of Daryl’s crossbow bolts had been sticking in the ground, pinning a piece of paper.

It was a note from Daryl along with a map of the area.

         _Hey, Grimes!_  
_          Meant to show you some cool places around here, but you wasn’t there. _  
_          Take the map, so you ain’t getting lost again, greenhorn. _  
_          Take care – _  
_          Daryl _

_          P.S. Thanks for the Nobite.  _

Rick had to laugh about the map as well as the note and had felt a warm, comfortable feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. He would have liked to see Daryl again, but this was okay, too. He had been here. Had thought of him and taken the time to leave him a gift, something that wasn’t just _nice_ , but actually helpful.   
Funny, but in all the years he had known him, Rick couldn’t remember ever getting anything quite as special as that from Shane. 

When Rick came to the lake next, he had missed Daryl again, but the other boy had brought an empty beer bottle with him and had left his recent note in it, that way making sure that no rain or morning dew would ruin it. Message in a bottle. That sure was something else.  
For the rest of that week they had immense fun with each other without meeting once.

 

*****

 

The first leaves were changing their colors and the nights had started to grow chilly. Over the day though it was still sunny and warm and perfect weather to be at the lake. Rick had never hated the end of the school vacations as much as that summer.

The situation at the Grimes’ home was still the same. Catherine was lost in her own drug induced world, rested a lot and wasn’t really awake even when she was. Rick knew why and he could understand her, but it made him furious all the same that she wouldn’t let anyone help her, that she had shut him and his dad out until they had ended up being three people stuck on their own little island – seeing and shouting and waving to each other over the distance, but never touching, never being close, together alone.   
There wasn’t even someone to blame. Rick knew his father had tirelessly tried to pull his wife out of the darkness she was lost in, had done everything to keep their marriage alive and this family together, but as the months had passed, he had given up. He was alone, too. He would have needed someone all the same and didn’t have the strength to give it all to her, when he was running on empty himself.   
It was a vicious circle and Rick wondered if they would ever be able to break out and mend this family. Maybe the new therapist here would be more successful than the one in Trenton. And maybe not. Only time would tell. 

The less reason he had to be at home, the more he was looking forward to his visits to the lake and the prospect of seeing Daryl. The other boy had become the light at the end of the tunnel to Rick. 

The hours he had to spend at school were endless, and never before had he felt so caged in as he did now that he knew what being out there in the woods felt like. He wondered if Daryl felt the same, longed to get out of his school, too, and was looking forward to their meetings as much as Rick did. 

 

Lately it had been Rick being at the lake first, which was pure coincidence of course, but today Daryl was already there when Rick stepped onto the clearing.   
He was lying on his back with his arms tucked beneath the head, legs crossed at the ankles and looking up into the cloudless sky.   
Rick couldn’t help smiling. If Daryl was wearing a straw hat and had a grass stalk in the corner of his mouth, he would have been the perfect Huckleberry Finn in every school play.   
For a second Rick considered taking a picture of him with his cell. The lake, the boat, the way Daryl was lying on the sandy ground totally relaxed – it was the perfect picture. But before he could pull his cell out, the other boy turned his head and sat up. 

         “Ya just gonna stand there ‘n’ stare today?”

         “Was thinking about it”, Rick teased.

With a shrug Daryl let himself sink back onto the ground and resumed his observation of the flawless sky.

         “Whatever makes ya happy.”

_ Whatever makes you happy.  _ A smile spread over Rick’s face as he walked over to Daryl and sat down next to him. Their eyes met for a moment, then Rick laid down, too, and copied the other boy’s posture.

         “What do you see up there?” Rick asked after a few minutes of silent staring into the sky.

         “Blue. Always loved the color a’ the sky.  ‘s ma favorite.”

Simultaneously they turned their head and looked each other in the eyes.

         “Mine, too”, Rick said softly, before he unexpectedly sat up again. “So, you wanna stay here or are you gonna show me some of the _cool places_ you mentioned the other day?”

Daryl propped himself up on his elbows.

         “Yer call. ‘em places ain’t gonna run away, but ‘s the perfect day ta go for a swim.” 

He bit his lip almost instantly, cursing himself silently for even suggesting that. What was he thinking? He loved swimming in _his_ lake, but until just recently he’d always been alone or with Merle. But Merle _knew._

Rick hadn’t noticed Daryl’s change of mood. He was looking at the half-sunken boat and then said: “Or fishing. You like fishing?”

         “Dunno. But fishin’ sure don’t like me as ya can see.”

         “That’s your boat?” 

         “Ma brother’s. Least Merle claimed it was his till it sunk. After that the piece a’ junk sorta became ma possession ‘n’ responsibility.”

Rick couldn’t help laughing.

         “Some brother you got there. Guess he’s older, huh?”

         “Yup. Ten years.”

         “Is he still living with you and your parents?”

A shadow spread over Daryl’s face and for a moment his lips became a thin line, then he answered:

         “Nah. He’s got his own four walls.” And that wasn’t even a lie. “How ‘bout yerself? Got any brothers or sisters?”

         “Same as you. An older brother, Jeffrey, but he stayed back in Trenton. Got his own place there.” 

They fell silent and were lost in their own thoughts for a moment, then Rick asked softly:

         “You miss him?”

Daryl sat up and cast the old boat a long look.

         “Sometimes. Dunno ‘bout yer brother, but Merle’s a jackass. Pisses me off more often than not, but still … “   
He breathed in deep.   
“He’s ma brother”, he added as though that said it all. 

And maybe it did.  
          
         “What about Jeff? He any cool?”

Rick nodded silently, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

         “Yeah, best brother in the world.”   
He sighed, then sat up straighter and added:  
“So, how about fishing now? I got a fishing rod for my birthday last year and I haven’t even tried it yet.”

         “No shit. Like where would ya go fishin’ in _Trenton_ , dear God?”

Rick laughed out loud, before he sobered up again.  
          
         “That was actually why I asked for it – to have a reason to get out of the city, try something new. In the movies it always looks cool when the dads take their sons fishing and they spend time together, talk … “   
His previous amusement was gone.  
         “It’s not about catching any stupid fish, you know.”

         “Yeah, I know.”   
He cast Rick a look from the side and watched the other boy’s jaw muscles clench and relax in turns, before he added:  
         “If ya wanna talk … ‘m here. Don’t need no silly fishin’ rod.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Rick’s face again.

         “Thanks. But it was a present and I’d really like to try it.”  
He nodded towards the lake.  
         “And this is just the place I had in mind back then.”

         “’kay, but don’t ya wanna try it with yer bro or pa?” 

Rick slowly shook his head.

         “You don’t know my family – that’s not gonna happen.”   
He cast Daryl a smile.   
“Besides, I think I’ve got the perfect company right here.”

         “Pff, makes ya think so? Told ya I ain’t got no clue ‘bout fishin’.”

Rick chuckled.

         “That’s why. It’s like I said – fishing is not about catching some stupid fish.”

         “Interestin’ theory, man. Bet ya there’s a couple a’ peeps out there, who’d beg ta differ.”

         “Don’t give a damn about _a couple of peeps out there_ ”, Rick replied seriously. “This is gonna be fun, just because we both don’t know what the heck we’re doing. But if you don’t want to …”

         “Sure. Maybe we even gonna catch somethin’ – ‘em fish are probably gonna laugh ‘emselves ta death.” 

         “Probably. Let’s go get the rod then”, Rick said with a grin and slapped Daryl invitingly on the shoulder.

The next second he pulled his hand back, startled when Daryl flinched violently with plain shock on his face.

         “I’m sorry, Daryl”, Rick apologized, totally taken aback. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

         “’s okay”, the other boy croaked out, “I just … ‘twas only … Never mind. Let’s go get that fishin’ rod already ‘fore the day’s over. Got a curfew or somethin’?”

Rick noticed the sudden change of subject, but let it rest. 

         “No.” _Who would notice if I got home late?_ “At least not on the weekends. You?”

         “Nah. ‘s long as there’s food in the fridge and some booze ma ol’ man’s happy.”

He got up and dusted himself down, before holding out a hand to pull Rick off the ground. A moment later they disappeared into the woods headed for the _Hilltop Estates._

 

The house was silent when Rick and Daryl walked through the front door, but then – was there ever a time it wasn’t? 

         “Yer folks ain’t home?” 

         “Not sure”, Rick replied honestly. 

         “Oh. They like it quiet, huh?”

Rick sighed.

         “I know – a graveyard’s a damn bar on a Saturday night compared to this place.”

         “Nah, I like it. Wish ‘twas as quiet as this when ma pa’s home. He never keeps it down.”

Unexpectedly the curly-haired boy pulled his companion into the hallway and almost slammed the door shut behind him. Not without casting an angry glare across the street first where one of their neighbors was eyeing them suspiciously. 

Rick gritted his teeth. He wasn’t sure whether or not Daryl had noticed it, but there’d been several pairs of eyes on them all the way from the entrance gate of the development to the Grimes’ residence.   
People who had squinted at them from behind sunglasses while mowing their front lawns, casting them curious looks while getting the mail from their neat mailboxes by the curb and one or the other curtain had moved when they had walked by, as though some of the gossip queens around here had alerted all the others by phone even before they had passed the first ten houses. By now probably half of the people living here were informed about the “shaggy looking guy” that had dared set foot into their white-picket-fence neighborhood. If Rick hadn’t been with him, those nice people would have called the cops by now, dollars to donuts. Thank God, Daryl didn’t bring his crossbow today.

         “Idiots”, Rick muttered under his breath, before he called into the stillness of the house: “Mom? Dad?” 

There was no answer. Not that he had expected one. If his father was home, he’d be on his cell or in front of the computer, too busy to pay attention, but he was probably golfing with some majorly important people anyway.   
And even if his mom was home, which was likely, she never raised her voice these days.   
Rick remembered a different woman. A Catherine Grimes who would laugh and sing, read stories and play games, but that woman had faded. Like a flower that bloomed for a while and then slowly withered, she was just a shadow of her former self now. Rick would have done anything to get his old mom back.

         “Want something to drink?” he asked Daryl while he lead the way down the hallway toward the kitchen.

         “Sure. Ya got some more a’ that Coke? We ain’t never havin’ none at home.” 

         “You got it.”

The next moment he stopped dead in his tracks when he stepped into the kitchen and noticed his mother standing at the counter, chopping vegetables.   
At least she had started doing that, but now she just stood there as though she was frozen in time – the knife still sticking in a carrot – and stared blindly ahead of herself.

         “Hi, mom”, Rick said gently.

Oh, no, not one of these days. Not now that Daryl was to meet his mother for the first time. It had been a mistake to bring the other boy here. Rick should have just brought the fishing rod along some other day. They should have gone swimming instead. Maybe they had best leave right away, so …”

         “Hey, Mrs. Grimes”, Daryl addressed Rick’s mother in that moment and the unfamiliar voice actually got through to Catherine. 

She lifted her head and looked at the two boys standing near the doorway.

         “Oh. Hi, honey”, she said to Rick with a faint smile, before slowly moving her eyes to the unknown boy next to her son. “A new friend, Ricky?” 

         “Mom”, Rick sighed, “I asked you a gazillion times not to call me … Never mind. Yes, a new friend – this is Daryl.” 

He noticed the other boy casting him a surprised glance and knew why.  
Friend? They had only met a few times and still didn’t know too much about each other and yet … Yes, _friend_. Rick hadn’t given it any thought yet, but now that he did the answer was clear – he definitely considered Daryl a friend.   
He really liked the unruly and somewhat grumpy hunter, felt good with him around, he trusted him without even knowing why and looked forward to meeting him again the moment they had said good-bye.   
Rick answered Daryl’s surprised glance with a smile and saw it mirrored on the other boy’s face. Apparently Daryl felt the same about him. 

         “Nice to meet you”, Mrs. Grimes said softly and slowly as though speaking and thinking was an effort. 

         _“Like there was honey in my head”,_ she had said just the other day in the attempt to explain how it felt to have her thoughts run so _sluggishly_.

         “Same”, Daryl answered, not sure if he was supposed to say or do anything else.

         “I’ll be right back”, Rick said in that moment and disappeared out the door in a hurry to run up to his room and get his fishing rod.

The offered Coke was forgotten and he didn’t feel like giving Daryl a tour through the house. Not today. Not while his mom was like _that._ He just wanted to get out of there and return to the lake as quickly as only possible. Daryl looked after him with a frown. 

He was grateful not to be given the tour of the house, because it always made him feel uncomfortable being in a place his father’s trailer would have fit into like five times. He didn’t envy rich people their wealth, he just didn’t fit in, didn’t know how to behave and it made him feel … small and insignificant.   
Rick’s dad probably worked hard so his family could afford all this. It was well earned, so there was no reason to be envious. His own dad never worked a day in his life, so it was no wonder they lived in that crummy shithole. The old fart was good for nothing, a nobody, a simple-minded piece of shit. Daryl was just sad that people looked at him the same way simply for who his father was, for the place he had to grow up in, as though he could never be anything else than a simple-minded piece of shit, too.   
He was surprised – and glad – that Rick wouldn’t show him his room or the entire house and never bragged at all. It was one of the reasons he had liked the other boy right from the start. 

A couple of months ago Daryl had run into some of the private school douchebags, who had declared ‘bugging a Dixon’ their latest hobby and had laughed at him for not even owning a cell, while they had showed off with all of the latest models.

         _“Got no reason ta brag with ‘em crap, ya morons”,_ Daryl had let them know. _“Someone else worked for ‘em ‘n’ ya can’t take pride in other people’s achievements while yer ta dumb ta zip up.”_

The second those boys had checked with a start if their flies were in fact open, Daryl had taken off, laughing at them in turn. He knew that wasn’t forgotten and if he ever ran into that group again, he was in for a beating. But that was totally worth it. 

The reason he had frowned just now was the way Rick had almost fled the kitchen and left him standing with his mother. 

         _“’n’ where’s ma Coke, Grimes?”_ he couldn’t help thinking.

Just as he tried to figure out if it was rude to ask Rick’s mother for one of the desired sodas, he thought he saw tears pool in her eyes all of a sudden, while she stared at the vegetables in front of her without really seeing them. 

The rattling sound of a pack of TicTacs next to her and Daryl’s voice asking: “Want some?” startled her and surprised she looked into the boy’s blue eyes. 

         “I know chocolate’s supposed ta lift yer spirit if ya sad, but I ain’t got none. But ‘em TicTacs are really good, too. ‘s the Christmas special edition – red and white, ya know. Mint and cinnamon.”

He held the pack out to her and with a fond smile tugging on the corners of her lips, she held out her palm. Cautiously she picked one of the red mints up with her thumb and index finger and placed it onto her tongue as though it was likely to explode.   
The ghost of a smile turned into a wide one a second later.

         “Hmm, that’s really good.”

         “I like ‘em cinnamon ones best, too”, Daryl agreed. “’s why ma brother gave ‘em ta me last Christmas.”

Cathrine thought that was entirely cute. Surely Daryl’s brother was a little boy, who thought a pack of TicTacs of his favorite flavor would be the perfect Christmas gift for his big brother.

         “How old is your brother?” she asked.

         “Twenty-six”, Daryl replied honestly and noticed the smile on the woman’s face make room for a puzzled look. 

She was at a total lack for words, wondering if he was just joking or she misunderstood, but Rick returning with the fishing rod and a bait box saved both of them from the awkward situation. 

         “Okay, ready”, the curly-haired boy announced. “See you later, mom.”

         “Uh-huh”, she just said with a nod.

         “Bye, Mrs. Grimes”, Daryl added, but she had already turned back to her vegetables, staring at them once again.

 

Once they were outside, Daryl commented dryly:

         “I see why ya wanna go fishin’. Ya sure as hell ain’t havin’ veggies there any time today.” 

When he noticed Rick’s glance, he bit his lip and looked at the tips of his shoes.

         “Sorry, man, shouldn’ta said that. She’s a nice lady, honestly. But she ain’t feelin’ too good today, huh?”

         “She’s always like that”, Rick replied and then, without any further explanation, headed down the steps of the front porch. 

The neighbor on the other side of the street was still mowing his lawn although there wasn’t a stalk longer than an inch left and Rick thought he noticed several faces behind hedges and curtains.   
Standing in the middle of the street he looked around for a moment and then yelled:

         “What?!” 

Instantly the faces disappeared and the curious neighbor abandoned his lawnmower and headed back into his house.  
Daryl came to stand next to Rick and said:

         “Guess I stand out like a sore thumb around here, huh? Sorry about that.”

The other boy looked at him, anger still seething deep down inside.

         “You don’t have to apologize – _they_ are the assholes around here.” 

         “True, but I don’t want ya ta get into trouble ‘cause a’ me. Let’s get outta here.”   
         

They hadn’t spoken a word all the way back to the lake.   
Rick was deep in thought, turning problems over in his mind, and Daryl had let him be. He had developed very keen senses for other people’s moods at an early age and had learned when to speak and when to best keep his mouth shut and go invisible and inaudible.   
Wordlessly he had taken the lead as soon as they had reached the woods and when the lake had come into sight, he had pointed over to a couple of large rocks left of the ‘beach’.   
It was the perfect place for fishing. Those rocks were right between some huge pine trees and the waterfront, which meant they had an elevated as well as shady spot to sit in.  
Rick had quietly followed Daryl to the rocks, sat down next to him and had cast the line the next moment.   
Five more minutes passed, then he said suddenly:

         “Sorry.”

         “For what?” Daryl said softly while he kept his eyes on the fishing line.

         “Everything. My mom, those douchebags in town, being a bore today …”

         “Cut it out, Grimes.” Daryl cast him a stern glance. “Ya can’t apologize for someone who’s sad. She’s yer momma, man. Ain’t her fault. And ‘em people bein’ douchebags – that ain’t _yer_ fault. Nothin’ ta be sorry for.”  
He breathed in deep.  
         “’m used ta that, so no sweat.”

For a moment he fell silent, then he pointed at the fishing rod and added with a snort.

         “Ya ain’t no bore, Rick, ya just an idiot. Next time ya go fishin’, try usin’ a bait.”

         “What?” 

Rick took a closer look at his fishing rod and broke out laughing the next moment, when he noticed that he had cast the hook into the water without anything attached.

Daryl rolled his eyes.

         “’n’ ya supposed ta be quiet, too. Ya scarin’ off the damn fish.”

         “Fish got no ears.”

         “Course they got ears. And a sense a humor, too. They’re probably laughin’ their ass off ‘bout ya.”

         “Yeah?”

The next second Rick gave Daryl a shove and sent him head first into the lake.

         “How’s that for bait, smartass?” he called after him, laughing.

A load of water splashing in his face caught him off guard and had him gasped. Before he could react, a hand had gotten hold of his ankle and pulled him off the rock.  
The next ten minutes fishing and the world outside the woods were entirely forgotten while the two boys were engaged in their water fight, splashing and dipping each other in, all the while laughing till their bellies hurt and they were gasping for air. 

They laid down on the beach next to each other to let the sun dry them off and tried to catch their breath, both still grinning from ear to ear. 

         “Ya not gonna have any fish for dinner, either”, Daryl commented dryly. 

         “That’s okay”, Rick replied. “I don’t even like fish. Told you, it’s not about …”

         “Yeah, yeah, ain’t about catchin’ no stupid fish, I got it. If ya just wanted to go for a swim, what did we get the rod for?”

Rick sat bolt upright. 

         “Damn, the rod. Where is it?” 

He got up and looked over the now smooth surface of the lake.

         “Over there by ‘em rocks”, Daryl pointed to the slender object floating by the spot they had sat in before. “Ya wanna give it another try?”

Rick shook his wet curls.   
          
         “Not today. I’m just gonna hide the entire gear here somewhere and we can give it another try some other day. Okay?”

         “’kay.”

No sooner said than done. Rick securely hid the bait box and rod behind the rocks, although he could have left them out in the open just as well since no one else ever came here, and then returned to Daryl’s side.   
For a moment he sat quietly next to his friend, while Daryl had his arms tucked beneath his head once again and looked up at him, waiting. When Rick didn’t speak he said:

         “Did it work?”

         “Huh?” Rick looked at him puzzled.

         “Ya had a reason ta bring that fishin’ gear here, right? So, did it work?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and a smile spread over Rick’s face when he looked at him. The long, damp bangs had fallen into Daryl’s face again and he was squinting at him through the too long hair, that was partially coated with sand.  
         The people in _Hilltop_ would probably just see someone with unruly, dirty hair, if they looked at Daryl now. None of them would see the concern and gentleness in the blue eyes, although that was all that truly mattered. Rick saw them and it made his heart lighter than it had been in ages. 

He nodded.

         “Yup. It worked. Thanks to you.”

Daryl grinned at him.

         “Ya look like a drowned rat thanks ta me. If that’s what makes ya feel better … I can do that.” 

Rick returned the grin, but said nothing. After a moment he let himself sink onto the ground again and breathed in deep. The sun was sinking lower and the rumbling of his stomach indicated that it was dinner time. He secretly chided himself for not thinking about bringing something to eat when he had the chance. This day would be over too soon, as always, and then they would go their different ways again, as always.

         “Wish we could just stay here”, Rick said out of nowhere. 

He hadn’t meant to say his thoughts out loud, it had just happened.

         “Know what ya mean”, Daryl replied softly. “Been thinkin’ the same thing maself often enough, but … Ya know, I think this place ‘s only special as long as it’s … special.”

Rick turned his head and looked at him with a frown.

         “If ya was here all the time, it’d lose its magic”, Daryl explained. “Probably like people livin’ in the Caribbean are sick ‘n’ tired of ‘em palm trees and coconuts, while others pay money ta go there on vacation. Know what I mean?”  

The frown melted into a smile as Rick nodded.

         “Makes perfect sense. Means you gotta have rain to enjoy the sun? Yeah, I like that.”

         “Whadda ya runnin’ away from?” Daryl asked unexpectedly.

         “What?”

         “Ya got a nice home, as far as I can tell. So what’s the problem?”

With a sigh Rick looked up into the sky for a moment, before hesitatingly telling Daryl about the situation back home. About this parents and the dark cloud that seemed to be hanging over their heads at all times. 

         “Nothing changed.”

         “Think they gonna have a divorce?”

Rick shrugged.

         “Dunno. They barely talk, but I think they still love each other. Just got a shitload of problems and sorrows standing between them.”

Daryl cast him a sympathetic glance.

         “How about you?” 

         “I feel trapped in all of this. Can’t really help them.”

         “And yer brother?” 

Rick sat up and ran his hands over his face for a moment, before shaking his head.

         “No, Jeff’s far away. This is my problem here.”

The other boy sat up, too, and cast his friend a look from the side. They were sixteen years old and should have been allowed to be the kids they were, yet apparently that bitch Fate had a weird sense of humor and had loaded all of their families’ problems onto the shoulders of the youngest members. It wasn’t Rick’s job to mend his family, just like it shouldn’t have been Daryl’s to provide for his father and himself.   
Oddly enough it was that injustice and their shared ill fate that had Daryl feel closer to this upper class boy than he had ever felt to anyone else. 

         “Here”, he held out his pack of TicTacs to Rick the next moment. “Hope they ain’t wet.” 

         “What’s that?”

         “A piano”, Daryl said sarcastically with an eye-roll. “TicTacs, dude. Dunno ‘bout you, but some candy always makes me feel better.”

A smile spread over Rick’s face when he took a closer look.

         “Hey, that’s the special edition with the cinnamon and mint, right?”

         “Yeah. Ma brother gave ‘em to me for Christmas.”

         “My mom used to do that, too. Attach little treats to each present.”

         “Nah, ‘twasn’t an extra treat. This _is_ the present.” 

Rick looked at him stunned for a moment, then he said with a shrug:

         “Cool. Way better present than socks and underwear.” 

They both broke out laughing once again. And later, when they were both back home, lying in their beds and trying to find some sleep, they both thought that they had never laughed as much on one day as they had today. 

\- TBC -  



	3. Chapter 3

Gritting his teeth, Rick almost slammed the lid of his laptop shut.  
  
He had gotten an email from Shane. After what felt like ages his old friend had finally found the time to contact him again, and Rick had been excited when he had noticed the new email in his inbox. When they had just moved here, Shane’s emails had been the reason he got up in the morning. They had been the highlight of his day, a connection to his old home, a way of communication with someone he knew and loved.  
But while these emails and Shane’s text messages had reached him daily in the beginning, they grew fewer and fewer after a while. First they came once a week, then every other week and now it was like once a month he was hearing from his former best friend.   
That would have been okay – they both had their separate lives now – if that one email a month would have been worth the wait.   
But just recently Rick had read Shane’s emails and text messages with anticipation, only to end up shutting his laptop or cell down annoyed as hell, each and every time.   
He was hoping to hear about their old neighborhood, school, friends, _everything_ and would have appreciated Shane asking him how he was doing just once, but that didn’t happen anymore. Rick felt the urge to tell him about Daryl. And during the months before he had first met his new friend, he would have needed someone to lend a sympathetic ear for his sorrows and concerns, someone who would understand that he was probably the loneliest teenager in the state of Pennsylvania.   
But while Shane had still asked in the beginning, he didn’t seem to give a damn anymore these days. It was all about him now. And girls.   
If he bothered to asked how Rick was doing “up there” at all, that translated into “How are the girls in Pennsylvania?” From what Shane wrote to him these days, no skirt in the area of Trenton was safe from him any longer and that was the _only_ topic he knew, the only one he was interested in.   
After two months of summer vacation in Europe, Rick had gotten a full report on Shane’s _encounters_ with Inga in Sweden, Heidi in Germany, Jennifer in England, Rosalita in Spain and so on and so forth. While Shane’s parents had set their mind on seeing all of the round about fifty countries of Europe in two months, Shane apparently had tried to see at least one girl in each of those countries. Not one word about the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Brandenburg Gate or _any_ European attraction that did not have boobs. 

Shane was six months younger than Rick, but in that respect he had surpassed him by years now. Rick didn’t even think about girls or dating yet. There were a few at school, who’d been flirting with him and they were pretty, sure, but he just wasn’t … interested.   
He hadn’t said it, but Rick was sure that Shane was laughing at him behind his back for not having asked any ‘chick’ out yet. And _asking out_ , according to his old friend, meant more than just going to the movies or having a parfait at the local ice cream parlor.   
Rick wondered if only half of what Shane was bragging with was even true. Had he really …? Like … all the way? Just the thought of touching one of the girls at school _that way_ or being touched in return made Rick feel highly uncomfortable. Shouldn’t that thought have caused a totally different reaction, especially in the lower departments? Well, it did not. It only made him shudder. 

Obviously he and Shane were living in different worlds now in more than one respect and so it wasn’t even surprising that, despite Rick asking him about it, Shane hadn’t replied to his Thanksgiving invitation. 

It was tradition. As long as they’d been friends, they had taken turns celebrating Thanksgiving at each other’s home – one year Shane would come over to dinner at the Grimes’ house, the next year Rick would be over at the Walsh’s. It would have been Shane’s turn to visit this year and they hadn’t seen each other in nine months, yet Shane ignored Rick’s question about it. Sure, it was still two months, but …   
Sometimes no answer said it all. If Shane was eager to see him, he would have said so, would have made plans with him about what they were going to do when they finally met again, but there was no indication that he planned to ever set foot into Pennsylvania.   
It hurt. Deep down inside it hurt to realize that Rick just didn’t matter to him anymore. He probably just sent emails and text messages to silence his conscience or because Mrs. Walsh was bugging him to do so, but he didn’t miss him, didn’t feel the connection between them anymore and if Rick was entirely honest with himself, neither did he.   
Shane had become a stranger, wasn’t the friend anymore he used to be, but it wasn’t easy to forget all the years they had spent together growing up. In a way Shane Walsh would always be a part of his life, would always be in his memories and own a piece of his heart, but maybe it was time to move on, take the next step and open a new chapter that did not include him.

Sometimes it wasn’t necessary to break with traditions though to turn a page – just altering them was quite sufficient. 

         “Mom?” Rick addressed his mother, who was sitting in a deck chair by the pool, reading.

She had good and bad days, of which the latter prevailed, but today was definitely one of the good days and Rick jumped at the opportunity.

         “Mom?” he repeated when there was no reply at first.

With a smile Catherine Grimes turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes were bright and vivid today and she was focused, which had Rick’s heart make a leap of joy. He missed seeing her like that.

         “What is it, Ricky? – Rick. I’m sorry.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Today was definitely a good day, if she remembered that.

         “You have a moment?”

         “Sure.” She put her book down and looked at him expectantly.

         “It’s about Thanksgiving.”

He watched her eyebrows rise to her hairline.

         “Honey, that is two months from now.”

         “I know, but … I was just wondering, if …” He sighed. “Looks as though Shane isn’t gonna be able to make it this year …”

         “Oh”, she cut in, “that’s a pity. You haven’t seen each other in so long and it’s tradition.”

         “That’s what I was gonna talk to you about. Maybe we can like … alter that tradition a little?”

         “How do you alter a tradition? Did you wanna go down to Trenton instead and be at the Walsh’s two years in a row?”

         “No. No, I think they’ve got other plans”, Rick lied. “But the tradition is me inviting a friend over, right? And that turned out to be Shane each time, but … I was thinking maybe this year … I don’t know, if he would even want to come, but …”

He was stammering like an idiot and for the life of him he didn’t know why. How difficult a thing was this to ask? 

         “Would you like to invite someone else?” Catherine threw him a lifeline. 

         “Yes. – Daryl”, Rick said with a relieved sigh. 

His mother’s confusion was palpable. 

         “Daryl? Who’s Daryl?” 

The teenager couldn’t help sighing again.

         “You met him the other day, mom. He was here, remember? When I came home to get the fishing rod?”

         “Oh, yes”, the woman’s face lit up. “The boy with the TicTacs.”

Rick had to laugh at that.

         “He offered you those TicTacs, too?”

She nodded.

         “I think it’s amazing.”

         “Amazing? A pack of TicTacs?”

         “No, the fact that he valued that gift so much that he apparently saved those TicTacs for special occasions. Christmas was nine months ago, Rick, and he still has them although he said they were his favorite. I remember that. He liked the cinnamon ones. And he shared them with me that day. – A special boy, your friend.” 

Rick swallowed thickly against a lump in his throat.   
He hadn’t even thought about all that, had accepted those TicTacs as though they didn’t mean a thing and usually they didn’t. It was candy, no more, no less. He had made a joke, that much he remembered, and had thought that this must have been the weirdest Christmas present ever. He had no idea how much Daryl offering them to him and his mother had actually meant.   
But his mom had sensed the deeper meaning. Catherine, who had been under the influence of valium that day and had barely been able to think straight, had shown more sensibility than Rick would have expected.   
And she called Daryl ‘special’. Not a word about not fitting in here, about his appearance or not being the right company for her son. Deep down inside Rick had dreaded to hear something like that and now he was simply overwhelmed by his mother’s reaction.

He bent down to her to give her a hug. 

         “Thanks, mom.”

 

*******

 

At the lake Daryl was digging the umpteenth hole, scooping the earth with his bare hands and smiling.   
He had been waiting for Rick to show up, while the afternoon sun had continued on its path across the clear autumn sky, only occasionally covered by a few harmless clouds. It was definitely autumn now with the leaves showing the first hues of red, orange and yellow and Daryl had always loved that time of the year. Every season had its beauty, but there was nothing like the vast variety of colors autumn dressed up in.   
He had gotten bored just sitting there waiting, while Rick was apparently running late, so he had started doing something useful. They hadn’t tried the fishing rod again, not least of all because they didn’t have any decent baits, but today would be the day, Daryl had decided about half an hour ago.  
He had started to dig for worms and had been quite successful, too. There were about a dozen of them squirming in his and Rick’s message bottle now, ready to go for a swim. Maybe fishing wasn’t about actually catching a fish, according to Rick, and maybe the curly-haired boy didn’t even like fish, fine. But Daryl wouldn’t have minded one or two of them. He liked them. He liked everything that meant not having to go to bed hungry and, most importantly, having to face his father when the fridge was empty. And currently it was. He had to catch something today and every minute he waited for Rick his chances subsided.   
Although the summer heat had clearly abated, it was still warm enough and after digging for quite a while, sweat was running down the boy’s temple. He pulled a piece of cloth from the back pocket of his pants and wiped his face, only to freeze the next moment. 

         “Damn”, he muttered.

Rick’s handkerchief. He still hadn’t given it back, had carried it in the back pocket of his pants all the time and it had become a steady companion.  
It wasn’t forgotten and despite not having too many clothes in his closet, this was not the same pair of pants he had originally stuffed it into. He had held the precious piece of cloth in his hands more than once, reminding himself to give it back, but then he had either forgotten when he had met Rick or had been reluctant to return it like _this._  
It was dirty, to say the least.  
He had wiped his sweaty face with it more than once and just now he had accidentally gotten fresh soil all over it, too. A rag looked neat compared to this handkerchief.

         “Damn”, Daryl cursed again. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

         “Who’s gonna be pissed?” Rick’s voice sounded behind him and had him jump.

         “D’ya gotta sneak up on me like that, man?”

Rick raised his hands defensively.

         “Didn’t know that was even possible. So far you’ve always heard me long before I showed up.”

         “Yeah, that ain’t difficult the way yer tramplin’, but I guess I‘s a li’l distracted.”

He tried to hide the reason of his dismay behind his back, but Rick had already seen it.

         “Whadda you got there?”

With a sigh Daryl held the item in question out to him.

         “Yer hanky.”

Rick suppressed a smirk.

         “No, that’s not mine.”

         “Sure it is.”

         “Mine was red, Daryl”, he teased.

         “It _is_ …” He broke off when he looked at the piece of cloth in his hand, whose color at that moment was anything _but_ red, and caught Rick’s meaning.  

         “Jackass”, he grumbled. “Sorry – got a li’l dirty. I used it ta …”

         “You _used_ it?”

Rick was having a ball.

         “Didn’t blow ma nose or somethin’. Just …”

         “Cleaned your shoes with it?”

         “Ah, shut up!” Daryl was in between annoyance and amusement. He wasn’t sure which would be appropriate.  
         “Ya gettin’ it back. ‘m gonna wash it first, ‘kay?” 

Rick suppressed a grin.

         “Daryl, it’s just a … “

         “Ya gettin’ it back!”

That said he stuffed it into this pocket, while Rick’s smile slowly faded.   
_ Just  _ a handkerchief, _just_ a pack of TicTacs … How many times would he make the same mistake? 

         “Have you been digging for gold?” Rick said with a frown when he noticed Daryl’s dirty hands and the holes in the ground around them.

         “Oil. But that can wait.” He held the bottle with the squirming worms up. “Got somethin’ better.”

         “Yummy.” Rick pulled a face, but caught on a second later. “Oh, you wanna try fishing again?”

         “Oh brother”, Daryl muttered with an eye-roll. “Yeah, unless ya wanna take ‘em home for dinner.

         “No, thanks, we had worm yesterday.”

         “Ketchup?”

         “Sure.”

They grinned at each other, then Daryl said:

         “’s Friday. Ya supposed ta have fish on Fridays, right?”

         “I guess. I’m just not sure the fish know that, too.”

Chuckling they got the fishing gear out and climbed onto the rocks to give fishing another try. With fat worms such as these as bait, how could they possibly fail?   
Daryl bit his lip. They had to succeed.

         “Yer late”, he said to Rick when the fishing line with the first worm attached to the hook had been lowered into the water. 

         “I know. Sorry. I talked to my mom.”

         “Oh. She doin’ better?”

A smile tugged at Rick’s lips.

         “Yeah. At least today she is and we had the first real talk in ages.”

         “ ‘s great, man. ‘m glad yer mom’s feelin’ better. – What d’ya talk about?” 

         “Thanksgiving. And I was wondering …”

         “I hate Thanksgiving”, Daryl cut in with a scowl. “Hate all a’ ‘em holidays. Christmas, birthdays … ‘s stupid. Ain’t for me.”

Unexpectedly he jumped to his feet and off the rock he’d been sitting on. 

         “Sorry, gotta go.  I forgot … Ma pa …  I … I just gotta go.”

Before Rick had a chance to react at all, Daryl had turned on his heels and run into the woods. 

 

*******

 

The incident was not mentioned when they met next, but due to Daryl’s fierce reaction Rick hadn’t extended the invitation, either.   
He was disappointed. It was going to be the saddest Thanksgiving ever without … Shane or Daryl, but there was no sense in inviting either one when apparently neither was in the least interested. 

They weren’t meeting by chance anymore, but had started to make appointments so they wouldn’t miss each other again. As the weeks passed, those appointments became as much a daily routine as getting up in the morning and turning in at night, until they said their good-byes with the same words each and every day:   
“Same time tomorrow?”  
There was barely a day they did not see each other anymore.  

The lake had become their refuge, their safe haven, the place where they found peace and someone to talk to, someone who listened, someone who was just _there._ As the days grew shorter they both started to dread the winter. 

After that one day at his home, Rick was reluctant to take his friend to the _Hilltop Estates._  
Whether that was because he was ashamed of his mother or the prejudiced neighbors or because he thought the other boy didn’t belong there and had better stayed on his side of town, Daryl wouldn’t know. He just knew he felt the same when it came to the place he had to live in. There was no way in the world he’d take Rick to _Terminus,_ let him see what kind of ghetto he came from, maybe even meet his father. 

One of these days they were going to run out of options. Would that mean going separate ways till the spring? Or forever? Maybe Rick would find new friends at school over the winter – rich upper class kids, who had so much more to offer than Daryl. Surely sooner or later someone would tell him who Daryl was and what family he came from. Maybe it wouldn’t be the cold of winter that would drive them apart, but the cold inside of people’s hearts and the hate the Dixons had always been met with. Maybe these few precious months had been the only ones Daryl would ever have with Rick before he lost the only friend he ever had.  
He was planning to make the best of the time they still had together. 

It was mid October now and too cold to still go for a swim in the lake. They had given up on fishing after several futile attempts on catching but one single fish. So Daryl had started to show Rick the _cool places_ he had told him about.   
At first he’d been afraid his friend would just laugh at him and think he’d lost his mind calling them ‘cool’, but Rick had enjoyed every single outing Daryl had taken him on. 

He had shown him the largest and oldest tree in these woods – it wasn’t a Sequoia, but still its height and scope were quite impressive – and a cave of which Daryl claimed was inhabited by a bear. Although Rick thought he saw a smirk play around the other boy’s lips, he had cautiously taken a couple of steps back.   
One day they had climbed a hill until they had reached a large pine tree. It wasn’t as high as the huge tree Daryl had shown him before, but since it was situated on top of that hill and easy to climb, it was the perfect spot to get a grand view of the area. They had sat up there for almost an hour, dangling their legs, pointing out things they had spotted to each other or just enjoying the silence that was never awkward when they were together. Rick thought that no mall or amusement park could possibly have been as much fun as sitting in that tree with Daryl by his side.  
He had realized much later that he had never even thought about checking if his cell worked up there.  
The highlight of all the things his friend had shown him was the most beautiful creature Rick had ever seen in his life. They had sat several hours quietly in the bushes close to a clearing, waiting, until a strikingly white roebuck had showed up and stepped out of the woods as gracefully as a ballet dancer would come onto a stage. It wasn’t as large and majestical as a stag, but due to its white color it instantly reminded Rick of _The last Unicorn_ , although he would never admit to having seen such a girly movie.

         “He’s amazing”, Rick had whispered to Daryl and out of the corners of his eyes had watched a smile spread over his friend’s face.

Daryl never let the roebuck out of his sight and the fair animal had even turned its head his way as though they were having a silent conversation. Rick had touched his hand lightly to the crossbow  that was slung over the other boy’s shoulder, but before he was able to asked, Daryl had abruptly turned his head to him.

         “Nah. Never.”

His harsh words had scared the buck and with few large leaps it had disappeared back into the woods. 

         “I didn’t mean to suggest you should”, Rick had tried to explain himself, “I was just wondering if you ever thought about …”

         “’s like I said – never! I ain’t out here for trophies and he’s way too beautiful. He’s special, one of a kind.”

Rick had looked at his friend from the side and his pulse rate had picked up suddenly.

         “Yes, he is”, he had whispered back, never taking his eyes off Daryl’s face.

         “No one should be allowed ta harm him.”

Rick had swallowed against a lump in his throat and had felt an incredible tenderness for that boy all of a sudden. He would have liked to just give him a hug now or touch his hand, but dared not. He had just gently nudged Daryl’s shoulder and said: 

         “I’m with you.”

It was silent between them for a moment, then Daryl had wordlessly leaned into him with the ghost of a smile on his face. They had sat close to each other, indulging in the other one’s presence, while they resumed observing the clearing although the white roebuck was long gone. 

 

*******

 

A couple of days later they were gathering beechnuts. Lots of beechnuts. An immense amount of beechnuts. Until Rick straightened up and the joints in this hips and back cracked audibly.

         “Hey, ol’ man”, Daryl said to him with a grin, “ya done gatherin’ yer share?”

         “I’m done already. What are we doing here anyway? Is this some kind of odd school project or something?”

Daryl straightened up, too, and cast him one of the looks that time and again made Rick feel as though he had said something entirely stupid.

         “Ya can eat ‘em, didn’t ya know that? Ya can grind ‘em ‘n’ use the oil for cookin’ or the grist for bakin’. They’re good.”

Rick’s azure blue eyes grew large.  

         “You’re kidding me, right? That’s what you do with that stuff?”

         “Nah”, Daryl replied with a scowl, “’m gonna take _that stuff_ ta Miranda, the nice lady livin’ next door. She’s got two kids ta feed ‘n’ they like ‘em beechnut cookies she makes. It saves her money not havin’ ta buy flour in the store. ‘s why we need lots a’ ‘em. Got it?” 

Rick grew pale. Save money for flour? He wasn’t sure what a pound of flour would cost in a store, but it couldn’t be more than fifty cents to a dollar. He had gotten that amount as weekly pocket money when he was still in kindergarten and here they were gathering beechnuts in the woods so Daryl’s neighbor could save that _pocket money._ Why did he feel like a complete asshole all of a sudden?

         “Got it”, he said meekly before crouching down to resume their current pastime. 

Daryl’s hand on his shoulder had him look up and meet his friend’s eyes.

         “Didn’t mean ta snap at ya like that.”

         “You were right. Sorry, if I’m acting like a douchebag sometimes.”

         “Ain’t yer fault. Ya was brought up like that.”

“Being a douchebag?” Rick teased mildly.

“Nah, havin’ a different point a’ view on values. As long as ya get ‘em damn beechnuts off the ground now, yer forgiven.” 

Rick broke out laughing.

         “Thank God.”

         “Just Daryl’s okay”, the other boy teased, while giving his friend’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Rick reached out and placed his own hand on top of Daryl’s, giving it a light caress.   
Daryl drew back as though he’d been electrified and stared at his friend visibly confused. Rick fought the impulse to look away or apologize or laugh as though this had been a joke. There was nothing he was sorry for and it was far from being a joke – he had meant it, had wanted to touch Daryl’s hand for so long now. He wasn’t afraid of his feelings, just didn’t know what it _was_ he was feeling, what it meant.   
What he was afraid of was Daryl turning away from him one of these days, because of _this_. 

It was deadly silent for a moment and this time the silence between them was awkward for the very first time.   
Then Daryl wordlessly crouched down next to Rick and started picking up beechnuts again. He didn’t look at the other boy, didn’t say a thing, but he didn’t move away from him or yell or show any signs of being repulsed or annoyed, either.

         “I think it’s great that you’re helping your neighbor”, Rick said softly after a moment.

         “We’re helpin’ each other”, Daryl replied just as softly. “She patched me up the other day when I sprained ma ankle and sometimes she … “

He fell quiet. He had wanted to tell Rick about all the times Miranda Morales had given him something to eat, if she had anything to spare. It hadn’t been much, but she had probably figured it would get the hungry boy through another day. In fact, it had always filled Will Dixon’s stomach, but Daryl favored being hungry over getting beaten.  
But all that wasn’t Rick’s business. Daryl didn’t want him to know how shitty his life actually was, so all he said in the end was:

         “She’s just a very nice lady, who’s there when ya need someone. Bet ya there’s people like that in yer neighborhood, too.”

Rick shrugged.

         “They keep mostly to themselves, unless they wanna gossip about each other. People in _Hilltop_ can afford to buy all the help they need – they don’t need any neighbors.”

         “Yeah? Sounds worse than the place I live”, Daryl said with a thoughtful air. “Peeps there can’t afford nothin’ ‘n’ still there’s some who’d help ya out.” 

A smile tugged at Rick’s lips.

         “Guess every neighborhood should have a Miranda, huh?”

Daryl nodded without looking up. After a moment Rick picked up again:

         “I think we do.”

         “Do what?” 

         “Have our own Miranda. Only her name is Carol. Lives a few houses down the street. She’s an old spinster, I think.”

         “How old?”

         “Old. Thirty or so. But she’s nice. First I thought she was terribly nosey, always making everybody’s problems her concern, but … Maybe you’re right. Maybe everybody needs someone at times to help them out and she’s pretty much a voice of reason in between all of those annoying chatterboxes. I wonder if my mom talked to her yet.”

         “Woah”, Daryl looked him in the eyes and slightly shook his head. “I ‘s talkin’ ‘bout … ya know, someone who’d give ya some eggs or sugar if ya need ‘em, not a therapist.”  
He pressed his lips together.  
         “Damn. Sorry, man. I keep sayin’ shitty things like that as though I thought yer mom was a nutcase. I don’t, honestly.”

         “I know.”

After that they were quiet, but this time the silence was comfortable again. 

\- TBC -


	4. Chapter 4

Rick smiled when he saw Daryl come out of the woods the next day and walk toward him. He had grown incredibly fond of that sight – his friend with the always unruly and too long dark hair, shaggy but comfortable looking clothes and the crossbow slung over his shoulder. He still hadn’t taken a picture of Daryl, although he always carried the useless cell around with him – old habits die hard – but one of these days he would get his photo. 

         “Hey”, Daryl greeted him even before he had reached him, “Miranda says Hi ‘n’ thanks for helpin’ with the beechnuts.”

         “Pleasure. And I really mean that. Have never spent the larger part of an afternoon gathering beechnuts.” 

         “I bet”, Daryl grinned. “Till yesterday ya probably didn’t even know a thing like beechnuts existed.” 

         “Guilty as charged”, Rick returned the grin. “So, got any plans for today? Are we gonna dig for truffles or something?”

The other boy rolled his eyes.

         “I look like a truffle pig to ya? – _Don’t_ say it!” he added with a warningly raised index finger.

It was just a friendly banter and still he couldn’t help pushing the long bangs out of his face. For the first time since he had met Rick Grimes he actually wondered what he looked like to him. Did Rick see him as the poor, ragged boy that he was? 

         “’fore I forget”, Daryl said, quickly changing the subject, “here’s yer hanky back.”

He had reached into the back pocket of his pants and held the red piece of cloth out to Rick. It was perfectly clean now and even looked ironed.

         “Did you iron a hanky?” Rick asked with mild amusement.

         “Nah, that was Miranda. Ain’t got no iron.” He let out his breath with a derisive snort. “The hell ever for?” 

Rick inspected the item in his hand for a moment longer, before holding it out to Daryl.

         “It’s yours.” 

         “Nah. Don’t need no snobbish hanky ta blow ma nose.”

         “Neither do I”, Rick said gently, “but you’ve put it to good use for weeks now and it looks perfect in your back pocket.”

         “Ya been starin’ at ma ass, Grimes?” 

         “Whadda you expect, running about with a red flag attached to that ass?”

They both had to grin at that.

         “Besides”, Rick added, “it’s an unspoken rule for handkerchief owners. The first person who both uses and cleans it, owns it. Simple as that.” 

Daryl took the hanky back and held it in his hand for a moment, before returning it to its original spot.

         “Guess if there’s a rule, I gotta take it.”

That day a simple red handkerchief became Daryl Dixon’s most valued possession next to his crossbow and the angel wing vest, and Rick had to smile each time he saw it while _staring at Daryl’s ass._ And Daryl for his part smiled knowing that he did. 

After the hanky matter had been settled, the archer looked around himself and said:

         “’s gonna rain soon. Ain’t gonna be much fun out here today and I gotta do some huntin’. Still wanna come?” 

         “Sure”, Rick shrugged.

         “’m gonna check ma snares first ‘n’ after that we gonna try track some deer or boar, but if ya trample through ‘em woods like an elephant again ‘n’ scare off ma game, ‘m gonna tie ya to a tree and leave ya. Got it?” 

Rick burst out laughing.

         “Thanks for the warning.” 

 

They had checked four of Daryl’s snares, all of them empty, before Rick dared speak again. He had concentrated hard on walking as cautiously and quietly as Daryl and since he was still walking at all and hadn’t ended up tied to a tree, he apparently had managed well enough. 

         “I’m surprised you like hunting”, he commented softly all of a sudden and had Daryl cast him a surprised look.

         “Why?” he asked with a frown.

         “Because you have a very soft spot for all the creatures in these woods and know so much about them.”   
He smiled.  
         “I almost expected you to give each squirrel a name.”

The archer’s expression darkened.

         “Nah. Ya don’t name yer food.” 

It sounded like a joke despite the serious inflection, but a moment later it registered that Daryl had actually meant it. Rick’s smile faded.

         “You _eat_ those squirrels?”

         “’course. Ain’t killin’ animals for the fun of it. Besides, what’s wrong ‘bout eatin’ squirrels or opossums or snakes? ‘s the same as ‘em cows – they mean meat on the table. Mean I ain’t gonna go hungry.” 

He turned his back to Rick and bit his lip so hard that he almost drew blood.   
Damn, the last sentence had slipped. He hadn’t meant to say that, but he was tired of pretending, tired of hiding, tired of having to justify his way of living as though he had ever had a choice. 

A hand that lightly touched his shoulder from behind had him flinch, but only a second later he relaxed and allowed the contact. The next moment Rick’s arms reached around him and gave him a hug.   
Daryl froze and started to struggle half-heartedly. He didn’t like to be restrained and he didn’t need anyone’s pity. But he needed the comfort and he needed a friend, needed someone who cared – needed Rick.   
The thought scared him. He had never needed anyone and he was able to take care of himself, but this hug … It felt so good being held like that. No one had ever given him a hug before, not even Merle.   
He didn’t want the embrace to end, but feared to break down, if he stayed in Rick’s arms any longer and that just couldn’t happen. 

         “Let go!” he demanded gruffly, successfully concealing his true emotions. “Don’t need no pity from no one.” 

Rick released him and instantly Daryl took a step away from him.

         “It’s not pity, Daryl. I just … I had no idea … Please, let me help you.”

         “Don’t need no one’s help, neither. Can take care a’ maself. Always have.”

For a long moment the silence was almost deafening as the two friends stood motionless, both at a lack for words. Then Rick breathed in deep and, trying to keep his inflection nonchalant, asked:

         “Can you show me how it works?”

         “What?” Furrowing his brow Daryl looked at him for the first time in minutes.

         “The crossbow. Can you show me how it works?” 

         “Sure.” 

The archer was grateful for the change of subject and let his weapon slide off his shoulder. He supported it with his left hand and raise it to show Rick how to hold a crossbow properly.

         “Like this, see?” 

         “Uh-huh”, Rick nodded. “But aren’t you supposed to put an arrow in there?”

         “’s called bolt, not arrow. And, yeah, ‘course ya need ta cock and load it first, but I’ll be damned ta let a greenhorn like you handle a loaded crossbow. Ya probably gonna shoot yerself in the foot. Or me.”  

Rick laughed out loud. 

         “Quite possible. – Where did you get it?” 

Daryl cast him a piercing look.

         “It ain’t stolen.”

         “I didn’t think it was”, Rick answered instantly and it wasn’t a lie. 

The thought that his friend could have stolen this weapon, however valuable it appeared to be, had never even crossed his mind. The older boy looked him in the eyes and gave a curt nod a second later. He believed him.

         “Ma brother gave it to me we I’s ten. ‘twas his before, but he kept sayin’ ‘twasn’t his kinda weapon. That a real man needed a real gun ‘n’ a crossbow was the right thing for a li’l princess like me.”  
He gave a derisive snort.  
         “Fact is, the dumb ass never learned how ta hit anythin’ smaller than a barn.”

Rick chuckled, while he took in the sight of Daryl holding the crossbow.   
He didn’t know this Merle guy, but apparently he was either blind or an idiot. That weapon was unique, it was cool and it didn’t look girlish at all. In other words – it was exactly like Daryl. And together they were the perfect unit.   
For a split second Rick couldn’t help the thought that he would love to take the crossbow’s place.

Furrowing his brow about that thought, the younger boy said:

         “So, did your dad give it to your bro? As a present or so?”

Again Daryl cast him a glance.

         “Yeah, right.”

_ “Ma pa ain’t never given us nothin’ ‘cept a piece a’ his mind ‘n’ a closer look at his fist”,  _ he couldn’t help thinking, but what he said was:   
“Nah, Merle told me he found it in the attic of the house we used ta live in when I’s little. Former owner musta left it there. Ma bro used ta tease me with stupid stories of it bein’ haunted by that dude’s ghost ‘n’ stuff. Probably as an excuse for not bein’ able ta handle it.”   
He shrugged.   
         “Maybe he’s even right, but I guess that dude’s on ma side then. Crossbow never let me down.”

Daryl lowered the weapon and ran one hand over it almost tenderly, then he handed it to Rick. 

         “Here. Try ta hold it right first without hittin’ yerself in the face. Ain’t wanna have ta explain ta yer mom why ya show up with a black eye.”

Chuckling Rick tried to copy Daryl’s posture from before and raised his eyebrow with a surprised grunt.

         “Wow, that’s heavier than I thought.” 

         “Yer a pussy, Grimes, anyone ever told ya that?”

         “Not recently”, Rick responded with a pout.

         “C’mom, man, I learned how ta handle that thing when I ‘s a kid.”

         “That explains your arm muscles”, Rick slipped and felt his cheeks instantly turn a deeper shade of red. 

Daryl lifted an eyebrow and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

         “First ya starin’ at ma ass and now ma arms? What’s the matter with ya?” 

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out like a rather annoyed remark.   
Fact of the matter was that he was neither amused, nor annoyed. He was flattered and that alone made him feel uncomfortable. No one had ever shown any interest in him or made a compliment and he didn’t know how to react to that. 

         “Sorry”, Rick’s voice ended his train of thought. “Just saying. Nothing meant by it.” 

That was a lie and he knew it, but the situation was awkward enough.

         “Alright.” He pushed a stray curl out of his forehead and then lifted the crossbow. “Like that?” 

         “Jeez. Ya bein’ a klutz on purpose now? Left hand ta support … Oh, wait, yer a southpaw?” 

         “Am I a _what_?”

         “Lefty. Ya left-handed, dear God?” 

Rick shook his head, while Daryl stepped to his side.

         “’kay, then switch the hands. Left hand ta support the crossbow, right hand ta pull the trigger.”

The curly-haired boy nodded and then grabbed Daryl’s weapon by the handle on the bottom.

         “What’s that for?”

         “’s the handle I use ta smack it over people’s heads when they’re wastin’ ma time.”

Rick grinned despite himself and hurried to hold the crossbow correctly. When he raised it, Daryl stepped behind him and gently pushed his hand underneath the left elbow. 

         “Li’l higher. Right. And now ya wanna aim lookin’ through …”

He moved closer to show Rick how to aim and his chin almost came to rest on the other boy’s shoulder. His breath tickled Rick’s ear and their heads were so close that Daryl’s long strands mixed with Rick’s curls. Both pulse rates had picked up considerably, but they tried to not let it show.   
Rick felt the warmth that radiated off Daryl’s body and a pleasant shudder ran down his spine. The other boy’s fingers ran gently down his arm to correct the position in which he was holding the crossbow … or maybe just because … and Rick closed his eyes for a moment, indulging in his friend’s closeness and the light, almost tender touches. He leaned back against the lean body behind him and was totally taken by surprise, when Daryl jumped the same second and took a step back.   
Before Rick could even react, he had grabbed the crossbow and hurried away from him.

         “Sorry, forgot the time. Gotta go.”

         “Wait! Daryl, what …?”

         “Gotta go”, the archer repeated, before pointing to his right: “ _Hilltop_ ’s that way.”

That said he disappeared in between the trees and was out of Rick’s sight a moment later, while azure blue eyes looked after him in total confusion.   
Why did he always run away? What happened? Was it something Rick said? Something he did?   
With a heavy heart Rick ran both hands through his curls and then turned into the pointed direction. He had learned some tracking from Daryl and was able to determine his direction by the position of the sun, more or less. And the markings on the trees the older boy had left for him months back were still visible.   
All of this combined would do to get back to _Hilltop_ or any other inhabited place. 

He turned his head one last time to look into the direction Daryl had run in, but his friend was long since out of sight and Rick knew he wouldn’t return today. 

 

Daryl hadn’t gone very far before he stopped and tried to catch his breath.   
By now Rick wasn’t completely lost in the woods anymore and was probably capable of finding his way home. And yet Daryl would look out for him and make sure he got back safely. But he would stay out of sight. He had to.  
His thoughts and emotions were in a turmoil and he didn’t know what to make of all this, how to react, what to do next. He didn’t know himself anymore. Didn’t know anything.   
When he had stood so close behind Rick’s back, explaining the crossbow to him, he had feared the other boy would hear his violently beating heart that, no doubt, had tried to break out of his ribcage right there and then. He had felt hot and cold in turns as though he was running a fever and his stomach had been in knots and filled with butterflies at the same time. What the heck was going on?  
Even before he had had a chance to figure it out, Rick had leaned back against him, his entire body pressed against Daryl’s, soft and warm and smelling so good of soap and earth and the woods and _Rick_.   
Daryl had grown hard before he knew what was happening and he was still trying to will his erection down now, panting heavily.   
This wasn’t the first time it had happened. He had woken up many times with a morning boner, had had his share of wet dreams and had jerked off a few times, too. He was pushing seventeen and wasn’t a preschool kid anymore, but this was different. No real person had ever caused that reaction yet. 

Daryl wasn’t even shocked that it was a guy who had triggered it first. Ever since he had found Merle’s magazines stashed underneath his brother’s bed and hadn’t felt a thing looking at them, he had had a hunch that he was swinging the other way. It didn’t matter.   
Merle wasn’t there, so he wouldn’t know until Daryl was old enough to leave and live his own life. And his dad didn’t need a reason to beat him – he’d do it whether he was straight or gay. It didn’t make a difference.   
He’d been all alone so far. There’d been no one close to him, whether male nor female, so his sexual orientation wasn’t a matter even worth wondering about. Until now.   
Daryl hadn’t even realized how strongly he felt for his friend already, until his body had betrayed him and made it quite obvious. And it had to stop. He couldn’t allow these emotions, couldn’t take the risk.

         _“Emotional ties are dangerous”,_ he heard Merle’s voice in the back of his head. _“Make sure never ta love nobody, li’l brother. They all hurt ya one day, they all leave.”_

And wasn’t it true? Merle first of all had left him time and again – and so would Rick. He’d find out sooner or later – that Daryl was a queer, that he was just one of the Dixons, that he was a nobody, nothing.   
Why would he still want to be friends? Why would he ever come back? As soon as he knew, he wouldn’t even care anymore. Rick would never love him. Nobody ever would. His family had made sure Daryl learned that lesson a long time ago. 

Stubbornly wiping a stray tear off his cheek he breathed in deep and then followed Rick’s trail. It wasn’t as easy to follow as it used to be, but still no challenge for a skilled hunter like Daryl.   
Rick never saw him, never heard him, not even the few times he looked back. When he had reached the edge of the woods and ran across the meadows back to _Hilltop_ , Daryl looked after him with teary eyes. Maybe this was the last time he saw him. 

         “Good job, Grimes”, he muttered to himself, “ya made it outta the woods without yer damn cell.” 

He still stood in the shadows of the trees, looking Rick’s way, after the curly-haired boy had long since disappeared from his sight. 

 

*******

 

The next two weeks Daryl waited in vain. He was at the lake every single day and waited, left messages in their bottle, but Rick never showed up, never responded.

Apparently it had happened. He had left him behind, found another pastime, maybe even new friends – friends who didn’t run off all the time and acted as weird as Daryl had. Friends who suited him better.  
And now that the summer had ended, so had their friendship. It was better that way. 

At least that was what Daryl kept telling himself.   
It wouldn’t have worked in the long run. They came from completely different worlds and those worlds would always clash. They were like the fox and the hound in that Disney cartoon, who started out as best friends when they were young, only to be opponents, who almost ended up killing each other as they grew older. At least his and Rick’s friendship had ended silently, without a fight, without them becoming enemies first. They just went separate ways. 

Daryl had expected this to happen. All summer long he had wondered how and when the dream would end, had never deluded himself with thoughts of “forever”, but still it hurt more than he ever thought possible.   
He had never cried, not when his mom died or Merle left him or when his old man worked his belt on his back, but after weeks with no sign from Rick the feeling of being deserted and rejected was overwhelming. No one wanted him, no one cared and no one ever would. Merle was right. 

That night he dreamed of Rick, saw his beautiful blue eyes look fondly at him and watched one of those enchanting smiles spread over his face just for him. And then the image in his dream faded and darkness engulfed Daryl while fear and solitude were holding him in a vice grip until he couldn’t breathe anymore.   
He woke to the sound of his own sobs and the feeling of tears that were running down his cheeks. 

This had to end. He had to stop feeling that way, had to pull himself together to be able to go on. But he had to see Rick one last time to hear it from himself. After all these months that was the least Rick owed him – honesty, a closure. 

And an opportunity was near.

 

*******

 

         “Trick or treat!”

With a wide smile Rick pulled the front door open for the umpteenth time and beamed at the little Batman in front of him, who was accompanied by Supergirl, a princess, a pirate and the cookie monster. 

         “Guys, you look great”, the teenager told the trick-or-treaters while letting them grab a handful of candy from a bowl he was holding. 

He waved to the kids’ parents, who were waiting by the curb, then closed the door again. He let himself drop to a chair right behind the door and stretched his legs with a sigh.   
After the first few callers he had walked back to the kitchen or family room, but the door bell had rung each time before he had even had a chance to sit down. Obviously it was trick-or-treating rush hour now and it was a constant coming and going, so he didn’t even bother leaving the hallway anymore.   
Stifling a yawn, he peeked into the bowl he was balancing on his thighs. Maybe he should have a treat himself? Some Skittles maybe or a Snickers?  

Before he could decide the door bell rang again. 

         “Have a break, have a Kitkat”, he muttered to himself before pulling the door open.

         “That’s a zoo out there”, he was greeted by his father’s voice that was in between annoyance and confusion.

         “Dad, it’s Halloween.”

         “No shit”, Jim Grimes answered, while he pushed the door shut behind himself. 

Only then he realize what he had just said and started to grin.   
Rick looked a lot like his mother with his blue eyes and the curls, but when he smiled he was clearly his father’s son. Jim Grimes had the same smile and Catherine had never grown tired of telling everybody that it was the smile she had fallen in love with back then.   
These days she barely saw it anymore, even when it was there. 

         “Don’t tell your mom I said the s-word.”

The thought _“Would she even mind?”_ had the two identical smiles crumble for a moment, but Rick holding out a Snickers to his father, which were Jim’s favorites, brought the amusement right back.  
          
         “You’re not you when you’re hungry”, Rick commented and saw his father’s smile turn into a grin.

         “You’ve definitely watched too many commercials, young man.”

Before Rick could reply, Jim’s cell rang. The Snickers was forgotten, same as Rick, while his father answered the phone and hurried down the hallway.   
The teenager sighed deeply.

         “Taste the fucking rainbow”, he grumbled and was just about to rip one of the Skittle bags open, when the doorbell sounded once more. 

         “Trick or treat!” a young voices called from outside even before Rick had opened the door.

His heart skipped a beat the next moment.  
In the twilight of the front porch, which was illuminated only by candles inside of pumpkin-design paper lanterns and a couple of real pumpkins, stood a way too tall trick-or-treater to be a child. The man was dressed up as a zombie, his clothes and face covered with blood and some long, stringy and entirely gross _things_ hanging around his neck that looked suspiciously like bowels _._ Rick hoped to God that none of this was real. 

         “Hey, look”, Rick said defensively, “dunno what your problem is, dude, but you’re too old for trick-or-treating and I’m gonna call the cops, if …”

         “Trick or treat”, the young voice from before sounded behind the zombie’s back and a little ghost peeked out from behind him.

         “Oh”, Rick let out his breath with a relieved sigh, “didn’t see you there, Casper.” 

He cast the taller figure a suspicious glance and then held out the bowl of candy to the child. A huge grin spread over the ghost’s face when he looked at all the goodies and his little hand started to hover over the bowl like a police helicopter on surveillance. 

         “This one”, _Casper_ said with a smile and picked a bag of peanut M &Ms.

Rick’s eyes grew large.

         “Just one?” he asked in disbelief. 

All the other little monsters had grabbed as much as they could possibly hold with their little hands, save for the real young ones that came to the door in the company of their moms.   
Sometimes Rick wondered what ever happened to all the kids that politely said “Thank you” and were taught by their parents _to leave some of the candy for the others._ At some age they apparently either left the country and were replaced by barbarians or mutated into these sharks who could never get enough. 

         “I can have more than one?” the little ghost said with huge eyes and Rick couldn’t help chuckling.

         “Sure you can. Cute humble ghosts always get to take more than one.”

With shiny eyes the young boy looked closely at the offered candy again while the teenager watched him with a smile, when the zombie unexpectedly addressed him.

         “Hi, Rick.” 

The curly-haired head whipped around.

         “Daryl?” He took a closer look at the gruesome looking figure in front of him and a terrible suspicion rose inside of him.  
         “Gosh, don’t tell me that blood and the guts are real.”

         “Course they are. I hunt, remember?”

Rick pulled a face.

         “That’s gross.”  His expression grew lighter. “But it sure is one hell of a costume. You just shouldn’t dress up on Halloween and mingle with the kids. There’s too many sick bastards out there.”

He took a probing glance around and saw one or the other small group of parents pointing their way and talking to each other. 

         “You’ve got their attention already.”

Daryl just shrugged.

         “Whether ‘m dressed up or not, they sayin’ shit ‘bout me no matter what I do, so it don’t matter.”

A frown appeared on Rick’s face.

         “What …?”

The little ghost eagerly tugging on Daryl’s sleeve, asking him to go to the next house, _pleeeease,_ cut him off in mid-sentence.

         “This ‘s Louis”, Daryl introduced the child to Rick.  “Louis Morales, Miranda’s son.  His sister’s sick ‘n’ his pa hadda work, so there‘s no one ta take him trick-or-treatin’. I owe Miranda ‘n’ trick-or-treatin’ ain’t no fun in _Terminus_ anyway, so I thought I best take him to the fancy neighborhood where they give out all the real good candy.”

He smiled at Louis and tousled his hair. 

         “Right, kiddo?” 

         “Right”, the boy beamed at him with crooked teeth of which two in the front were missing. 

Daryl noticed the expression on Rick’s face and said flatly:

         “He’s six, Rick. He’s losin’ his baby teeth, ‘s all.”

         “Sure. Sorry.” He seemed to apologize a lot lately. “Oh, wait”, he said to Louis the next moment. “Cute little humble ghosts, who’ll be getting new teeth soon get some chewing gum along with the candy.”   
He put a pack of gums into the boy’s bag.  
         “Sugar free. They’re good for your teeth.”

         “I brush them every day”, Louis said proudly and Rick gave him an appreciative nod.

         “Good job.”

         “Can we go now, Daryl?”

         “Just a sec, Louis, ‘kay?” 

The ghost started to pout. 

         “Can’t I just go without you?”

         “Nah. Promised yer mom ta look after ya ‘n’ I don’t want ya ta get lost. Can’t be too careful in this neighborhood”, he said with a teasing glance in Rick’s direction. 

A smile spread over Rick’s face.

         “He’s right. Hey, want a Coke while you wait?”

         “Yaaaaay!”

Both teenagers started to laugh.

         “Take that as a yes”, Daryl said in Louis stead. “Can I have one, too? Ya still owe me one anyway.”

Five minutes later Louis was sitting on the bottom step of the front porch, happily sipping his Coke, while watching the other kids run about trick-or-treating. Behind him on the porch swing, Daryl was taking a swig of his soda, but his throat still felt parched even after several large gulps. 

         “It’s good to see you”, Rick said after a moment. “Why did you run off like that the other day?”

         “’s like I said – hadda go. Was runnin’ late.”   
That sounded like a lame excuse even to his own ears.  
         “Ya never came ta the lake no more …” he started, before holding his breath in mid-sentence.

The ball was in Rick’s court now. For the life of him Daryl couldn’t come up with any explanation why his friend hadn’t come to their special place to see him or at least leave a message, other than that he didn’t want to hang out with Daryl any longer.

         “My mom had a nervous breakdown and was in the hospital.”

Daryl felt as though someone had punched him in the guts. _This_ was an explanation he hadn’t even considered. A wave of relief washed over him and he felt guilty for that the same moment. 

         “Sorry ta hear that, man. Hope she’s doin’ better now?”

         “Yeah, thanks. She’s back home, but with my dad working like mad I had to take care of a lot of things around here. And school and …”

         “Know how it is”, Daryl assured him. “Ain’t no different for me since ma momma died and Merle left.”

Rick’s head whipped around and he looked at his friend with wide eyes.

         “Your mom’s dead?” he croaked out. “You never said anything … God, I’m so sorry, Daryl.”  
          
         “’s okay”, the older boy said with a shrug. “’twas a long time ago when I ‘s still little. Barely remember her. Situation with yer momma may be difficult, but at least she’s still around. Yer lucky.” 

Rick swallowed thickly and nodded before he said:

         “She remembers you. You and your special edition Christmas TicTacs.” 

A smile spread over Daryl’s face.

         “She liked ‘em, too, huh?”   
He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled the pack of TicTacs out.   
“Here. Give ‘em ta her. Maybe they’ll make it a li’l better.” 

Instantly tears welled up in Rick’s eyes and he tried to swallow them down. 

         “Maybe. She said you must have saved those TicTacs for like a special occasion or something to still have them after all these months.”

         “Uh-huh. She’s right. ‘n’ what better occasion is there than makin’ yer momma a li’l happier? She needs ‘em more than I do.” 

The next moment his friend’s arms were around him and with a suppressed sob Rick buried his face in the crook of Daryl’s neck. He couldn’t have cared less about the blood and guts.

         “Thank you”, he whispered, struggling to regain his composure. 

Daryl rubbed a hand soothingly over his back and leaned his cheek against Rick’s curls.   
          
         “’s what we do”, he replied gently. 

After a minute Rick pulled back and breathed in deep, casting his friend a grateful smile. 

         “Do you wanna come in and give her the TicTacs yourself? I bet she’d love to see you.”

Daryl cast Rick a meaningful look while pointing at his current appearance.

         “She’s gonna have a heart attack, man.”

         “Daaaryl”, Louis the friendly ghost whined from the steps. “I wanna go now, please. All the candy will be gone soon.” 

Rick burst out laughing despite himself.

         “Unlikely.”

Visibly torn Daryl’s eyes wandered between his friend and the little impatient trick-or-treater, but after a moment he cast Rick a regretting look. 

         “Promised Louis he’d get at least a ton a’ candy ‘n’ we ain’t there yet.”

Rick got up and peeked into Louis bag.

         “How much do you got?”

         “Came here first”, Daryl said behind his back while he stood, too.

         “Alright then.” Rick reached into the bowl and brought up a big handful of more candy, which he dropped into the little boy’s bag.  
         “You had to wait, so the other kids have a clear headstart. This should level it. And since your sis can’t go herself, you need to be a good brother and share with her, okay?”

Louis nodded reluctantly. 

         “Okay”, Rick repeated with a smile. “What’s her name?” 

         “Eliza. – Thanks for the candy, mister.”

Rick laughed.

         “God, do I look that old? The mister around here’s in the house, glued to his cell – I’m Rick.”

He held his fist out to Louis and with a chuckle the six-year-old boy touched his own fist to it. 

         “Brofist – cool!”

         “Now that’s an improvement. From old to cool in one minute. That totally makes my day.”         
          
Daryl showed up next to him and smiled about the interaction between his friend and the little boy. Rick straightened up and turned around to him.

         “You gonna be at the lake tomorrow?” 

Daryl’s heart skipped a beat.

         “Ya bet.”

         “See you tomorrow then. Noon?”

         “Ya got it. Can ya bring some a’ ‘em candy, if ya got any leftovers?” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Rick’s lips.

         “Whadda you like best?”

         “M&Ms. Not the peanut ones, just the plain chocolate kind.”

The next moment Rick pushed several of the desired bags into his hands.

         “That’s a cool costume, so you deserve them. I’m gonna bring more tomorrow.”

         “Thanks.” Daryl cast him a smile, before turning to Louis and nudging his shoulder invitingly. “Let’s go rob this place.”

         “Daryl”, Rick said while he shook his head slightly, “be careful what you say around here. These peeps are a little touchy.” 

         “’twas a joke. I meant the candy.”

         “ _I_ know that.”

Daryl pulled a face.

         “’s the same everywhere – if ya come from the other side a’ town, ya can’t do a thing right.”

         “That’s why we meet on neutral ground”, Rick answered with a wink and couldn’t help thinking how entirely intriguing a smiling zombie looked as he watched his friend and the little ghost walk away. 

The smiles on both faces disappeared the moment they lost sight of each other.  
They both would always be _from the other side of town_ , would never be part of the same world, so how could things ever turn out right for them? 


	5. Chapter 5

It was surprisingly warm for early November when they met the next day. It was sunny and totally windless, which may have helped the temperatures to make it to the high 60s, maybe even low 70s. It wouldn’t last long, so Rick was planning to make the most of this day.

He was already at the lake, waiting for Daryl, a blanket spread out on the ground and a basket sitting next to it, filled with food. Too many times in the past they had said good-bye due to growling stomachs and not because they had wanted to leave. First of all though Rick couldn’t forget Daryl’s remark the other day about having to hunt so he wouldn’t _go hungry._  
His heart ached thinking that his friend had not enough to eat, while his parents and probably lots of people in his neighborhood tossed groceries into the trash as soon as the BBD was reached, whether they were still good or not.    
Daryl was right – they did have different points of view on values and Rick had seriously started to question his. 

The hunter was obviously running late, so Rick had brought the fishing rod out again and was sitting on the rocks watching the float, when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye.   
He looked up and smiled when he saw Daryl come out of the woods, a cap on his head and the long bangs hanging into his face as usually. How he was still able to see where he was going or hit his game was beyond Rick. 

         “Hey, you’re late.”

         “Yeah? Maybe ya early”, the other teenager replied gruffly before climbing the rock as well. 

Although there was room enough to sit on Rick’s right side, Daryl moved over to his left and gave his friend a shove to have him scoot over. Then he lowered himself wordlessly onto the rock and focused on the float for a moment, without looking at the other boy. Rick cast him a suspicious glance.

         “You alright?”

         “Sure. – Louis says Hi”, he added quickly. “I bet ‘twas really a ton a’ candy we hadda carry home last night. Not least thanks ta you.” 

         “Is his sis doing better?”

         “Yeah. ‘s just a cold or somethin’, nothin’ serious. The M&Ms were good, by the way.”

A grin spread over Rick’s face.

         “Had them all already? You’ve got a sweet tooth, huh?”

         “Nah, just didn’t have time ta go huntin’ yesterday, ‘s all.”

The smile dropped off the other boy’s face.

         “Don’t tell me those stupid M&Ms were all you had for dinner.”  

         “All day”, Daryl said almost inaudibly.

Before Rick could say anything, he just shrugged and pointed at the float.

         “Whadda ya usin’ as bait?”

Despite himself Rick chuckled.

         “Butterfinger. Had lots of them left and I don’t like them.”

A smile played around Daryl’s lips.

         “Me neither. Hate peanut butter and if ‘em fish’s smart …”

Before he could finish the sentence there was a tug on the line and the float disappeared beneath the surface.

         “Guess they ain’t!” Daryl called excitedly. “Bring it in!”

Excited about their first catch, Rick jumped up and – before even retracting the line – slapped Daryl on the back.   
The other boy hissed audibly and flinched, casting him a pained glance. That’s when Rick noticed the black eye Daryl had been trying to hide behind his hair and the cap. 

The fish was entirely forgotten and only a moment later the tugging at the line stopped as their first catch swam away.

         “What happened?”

Rick dropped the rod and bent down a little to look in Daryl’s face, but the other boy turned away from him.

         “Nothin’. Hit the crossbow in ma face accidentally.”

         “I thought you said you didn’t got hunting yesterday.”

Daryl’s head whipped around and he cast Rick an angry scowl.

         “Whadda ya want, man? I ‘s bein’ stupid ‘n’ shit happened. Leave me be.”

He was on his feet the next second and jumped off the rock down onto the beach, where he stood with his back to Rick, breathing in deep several times to regain his composure.   
Rick watched him silently for a moment, pressing his lips together to a thin line. A sinister feeling settled in the pit of his stomach while he climbed off the rock, too, and slowly approached his friend.

         “D’ya bring that food just ta look at or can I have some?” Daryl said unexpectedly, his inflection a clear warning not to bring the subject up again. 

         “Sure, dig in”, Rick answered with a sigh. 

The other boy slumped onto the blanket, pulled a sandwich out of the picnic basket and wolfed it down as though he was half starved – and he probably was. Apparently he hadn’t had anything to eat that day, either. Two fried chicken legs followed after the sandwich, then some cole-slaw and a donut, while each _course_ was washed down with Coke.  
In the end he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and gave a content belch.

         “Thanks.”

Rick had watched him silently, barely touching the food himself, and now that his friend had finished his meal he cautiously tried talking to him again:

         “Daryl …”

Almost instantly the other boy was on his feet.

         “I said _leave it_! – Gotta go.”

Flight. As usual.

         “No!” Rick jumped to his feet, too. “You can’t always run away when things get uncomfortable.”

         “Yeah?” Daryl’s eyes were blazing. “’s what kept me alive so far. Whadda you know, rich boy? Livin’ in that mansion over there, fridge full a’ food, a mom who loves ya and a dad who don’t beat ya up just ‘cause ya dare breathe in his presence or didn’t bring no food or booze home. Ya know nothin’!”

         “And you think you do! You think being poor gives you a monopoly on being miserable, but lemme tell you something. All the money in the world doesn’t buy you parents who see you or spare a minute of their time for you, whether they love you or not. And it doesn’t buy you friends, who are there when you need them, it doesn’t keep you company when you’re lonely or listens when you urgently need someone to talk to and even the fanciest house is no more than four walls and a roof. Money doesn’t make it a home.”

There was stunned silence as they both just stared at each other, speechless that their fates were so different and yet so alike. The next moment they hugged each other crushingly, holding on to the other like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.  
         For a long time they didn’t let go, both hungry for the contact, the closeness, the warmth and tenderness – simply having someone close who really cared and understood. 

In the end it was Daryl who pulled back first.

         “I really gotta go now.” There was genuine regret in his inflection. “Need ta go huntin’ – if I come back with no food again, there’ll be hell ta pay.”

Rick swallowed hard and tried not to stare at Daryl’s black eye. Hadn’t there been _hell to pay_ already? Could it possibly get any worse? 

He picked up the picnic basket that still contained enough food to make a decent dinner for Daryl and his dad and held it out to his friend invitingly.

         “Can take care a’ maself”, the archer snapped. “Don’t need yer charity.” 

         “It’s not charity. We’re friends, so lemme help you, please. I don’t want you to get hurt again.” 

Daryl still hesitated.

         “Please.”

         “What am I gonna tell ma ol’ man? That I ‘s shootin’ fried chicken today and found sandwiches in ma snares?” 

Despite himself Rick had to chuckle, before he grew serious again.  
          
         “Is he even gonna ask?”

         “Dunno. Never brought home stuff like that.”

The other boy shrugged.

         “Tell him you traded some squirrels against the fried chicken, because you were tired of them. Something like that. He’s gonna buy it.”

         “How d’ya know? Ya don’t even know him.”

         “I know enough.”

For a moment they just looked each other in the eyes, then Daryl reached out and accepted the basket with a thankful nod.   
He turned around to leave, but after few steps he stopped once more and cast a look over his shoulder.

         “I appreciate ya tryin’ ta save me, but … don’t be too sad if it ain’t gonna work.”  

With that said he disappeared back into the woods and left a stunned friend behind.

 

*******

 

Daryl’s words still echoed in Rick’s mind. 

         _Don’t be too sad if savin’ me ain’t gonna work …_

He had heard these words all the way back to his home the previous day and they had haunted him in his dreams – along with the black eye and the way his friend had flinched when he had touched him. 

What was he going through in this very moment? Did that bastard of a father lay hands on him again right now, while Rick was sitting in his quiet, yet safe and comfortable home, unable to help him? 

The teenager’s stomach cramped up painfully. His own father may not have won the ‘dad of the year’ award, but he had never beaten him, never even slapped him.   
Weren’t parents supposed to protect their children from any harm? Weren’t they supposed to stand in front line to make sure they were safe and happy and loved and as well provided for as only possible? And with ‘well provided for’ Rick didn’t mean the newest cell phones or video games or ridiculously expensive clothes. He was thinking of beechnut cookies.  
How could any parent hate their own child so much that they would beat them? Especially someone like Daryl. Sensitive, caring, _lovable_ Daryl.   
The mere thought just how hard that man’s fist must have hit his friend’s face to cause a black eye had Rick gasp once again. And he didn’t even dare picture what else he had done.

This had to stop! He had to do something, had to get Daryl out of the hell he was living in. Jim Grimes had connections, he knew important people and there had to be something they could do. There were laws against child abuse, weren’t there?   
But his father would have questions, needed facts to take action and talk to the right people. So they had to know what they were dealing with, what kind of living environment Daryl was caught in.  
Rick had to go to _Terminus_ and see for himself. It was the only way, but he had to do it without Daryl knowing. His friend had told him often enough to just _leave it be_ and he wouldn’t appreciate any interference. For the time being it had to remain a secret.

So Rick couldn’t just ask him to take him to _Terminus_ and he couldn’t follow him from the lake, either, or follow Daryl’s tracks from there. Rick may have learned something from the hunter during the past months, but he didn’t fool himself – his tracking skills still sucked and there was no way he’d be able to follow Daryl without the archer noticing him.   
He had to ask someone where exactly the trailer park was located or find a map … _Map!_ Hadn’t Daryl left him a map of the area months back, so he’d find his way around and not get lost again? And maybe, deliberately or not, Daryl had left him another breadcrumb. 

 

Rick had decided to ride his bike to _Terminus_ instead of trying to find his way through the woods. A map was well and good, but it was one thing to follow a couple of roads and another to head into the right direction in an unknown part of a forest, especially when the sun was not out for orientation. The trees still all looked the same to him, but he’d be damned admitting that to Daryl.      
The closer he came to the trailer park, the faster his heart beat against the inside of his ribs. Houses grew fewer and those that were there looked likely to fall apart any moment.   
When he arrived at _Terminus_ he gasped and realized that coming here, alone and without telling anyone, might have been a very bad idea.

Years back Rick had gone on a camping trip with Shane and his parents to a five-star-campground near Atlantic City. Naturally the Walshs’ idea of _camping_ wasn’t to pitch up a tent, but to rent a huge and brandnew trailer. Back then Rick hadn’t even giving it any thought. He and Shane had had a great summer at the beach, that’s what he remembered about that particular trailer park. And that place had been spick and span with well maintained, strikingly white trailers to rent, trimmed lawns in between the sites and even flower beds and decorations where people lived permanently. Their homes may have been _just_ trailers, but they took pride in their homes. _Clean, neat, nice_ – those were the words Rick had associated with the term _trailer park._ Until now. 

The place was a mess, there was no whitewashing it. Nobody living here took pride in anything, that much was more than obvious. If he hadn’t known better, Rick would have assumed to have made a wrong turn somewhere and be looking at the local garbage dump or scrap yard.   
The ‘streets’ in between the rows of trailers weren’t even paved – they were gravel and dirt, which would probably turn into mud after each rain. A few old, rusty cars were parked next to one or the other place, but for the most part it was trash that was piling up around people’s homes, as though they just kept everything they got their hands on. It was their property, some kind of wealth, and maybe they thought all of these things may come in handy one day. It was totally beyond Rick how rusty bikes without tires, sofas with torn cushions or filthy, old mattrasses would ever come in handy.   
He shuddered.   
If the outside of the homes looked like this, he could vividly picture what they looked like inside. And then again – maybe he couldn’t. Everything emitted an incredible hopelessness that was almost palpable and Rick started to understand why this place was called _Terminus –_ whoever named it liked to call a spade a spade. Everyone who had to move here or was unfortunate enough to be born into this neighborhood was unlikely to ever leave, ever go anywhere.  
_          You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. _  
The lyrics of _Hotel California_ had popped up in Rick’s mind unexpectedly, and for a second he wondered if the songwriter of the Eagles had visited a place like _Terminus_ before he wrote those lines.   
Through the window of the first trailer a little boy of about five looked at him with big eyes and a snotty nose and Rick couldn’t help picturing little Daryl at one of these windows, many years ago.  
_ This  _ was where he grew up, where he had to return to every single day and probably expected to die, too. Hunger, abuse, dirt – that was Daryl’s life. 

Tears flooded Rick’s eyes suddenly and he tried to swallow them down.  

         “I’m gonna get you outta here”, he whispered, sending a quiet promise to his friend.

There was no need to go further. He had seen enough and if Rick was honest to himself, he was scared to death around here. Cold shivers kept running down his spine and he felt numberless eyes on him from behind shaggy curtains and holey screen doors. He stuck out like a sore thumb and had better get out of here quickly.

         “Nice shoes, curly”, an unknown voice behind him had him freeze. 

The words may have sounded like a compliment, but the inflection left no doubt that the owner of that voice meant trouble.   
Rick turned around and tried to keep a straight face. The other boy was a few years older than he was and a couple of inches taller, lean but muscular. He had tattoos on his arms and wore several heavy chains around his neck, of which Rick thought they were either made of cheap metal or stolen. 

         “Thanks”, he just replied to the remark on his shoes and meant to get back onto his bike to leave, when the older boy took a step towards him and blocked his way.

He held a baseball bat over his shoulder and Rick noticed how the boy’s hand, that stuck in a fingerless black leather glove, tightened its grip.

         “No, you didn’t get it, dude. I _like_ them. They’re mine now.”

         “Negan! Leave him alone.”

         “Or what, Morales?”

Rick turned around and looked into the chubby face of a man, who was clearly of Mexican descent. His beard wasn’t as well trimmed as Jim Grimes’ usually was, but the teenager couldn’t help noticing that his clothes were clean and apparently even ironed, which may have made Morales stick out like a sore thumb around here as much as Rick. 

         “You are Morales?” he addressed the Mexican. 

He had heard lots of good things about this family from Daryl and if anyone was going to help him, it would be this man. At least Rick hoped so.

         “Who wants to know?” the Mexican answered suspiciously.

         “I’m Rick”, the teenager said friendly, yet not able to conceal his nervousness. “I’m a friend of Daryl’s.”

         “Yeah”, Negan cut in, looking him up and down, “and I’m the president of the fucking States of America.”

         “That would explain why no one likes you around here”, Morales said dryly.

With an angry scowl Negan let the baseball bat slide off his shoulder and held it threateningly in his hands.

         “You better watch how you’re talking to me, taco bender.” 

         “Negan!!!” a strident female voice sounded from inside a nearby trailer and Rick noticed the older boy grow pale.  
         “Where the heck are you, you worthless maggot?” 

         “I’m out here, mom”, Negan replied, now considerably less confident than before. 

A middle-aged woman came trampling out of the door and Rick thought she matched all common clichés perfectly.   
She was wearing way too much make-up, which Jim Grimes usually referred to as _warpaint_ , and her hair definitely wasn’t a natural blonde, since the cheap bleaching left it looking like straw and the dark roots showed. She wore tight leggins with a leopard print and a t-shirt that was two sizes too small, which no doubt was deliberate. It accentuate her impressive boobs and Rick couldn’t help thinking that in his own neighborhood breasts this size were usually fake. So either this woman had a rich sponsor or was lucky, as far as having to carry several extra pounds day in, day out and not being able to see your own feet could be considered lucky.   
A cigarette was dangling from the corner of her mouth as she marched up to her son, who seemed to shrink with each step the termagant took.

         “Damn”, she cursed. “Damned the day I was stupid enough to spread my legs for that scum of a father of yours, whoever the hell he even was. The twenty best years of my life wasted to work my ass off for you idiot.”

         “How hard work can it be?” Negan dared talk back to her. “You’re working on your back, mom.” 

She slapped his face so hard, that the imprint of her hand was visible on his cheek instantly and Rick couldn’t help flinching as though she had hit him and not her son.   
His heart was beating violently and he felt caught in a nightmare.   
How could people that were supposed to be a family treat each other and talk to one another this way? His own problems faded to insignificance in that moment and he wanted Daryl out of here more than ever before. 

         “You will never talk to me like that again, d’you hear me!?” she yelled in Negan’s face.

Clenching his teeth stubbornly, he nodded. The next second she hit him again.

         “Speak when you’re spoken to!” 

         “Yes!” he yelled back in frustration. 

         “Get inside and clean your pigpen of a room. I want you gone later. Got customers tonight.” 

         “Damn, mom, it’s cold outside at night.”

         “You want to eat?” She gave him a shove. “Find a job, you lazy bum, then I can retire and we can watch _Grey’s Anatomy_ all night. You look a li’l like Denny Duquette, you know? Too bad you’re only half as smart.”

The door of the trailer was slammed shut behind them and for a moment Rick couldn’t move and barely dared breathe, while Mr. Morales cast him a glance from the side.

         “You shouldn’t be here. This is no place for someone like you.” 

The teenager came out of his stupor and returned the man’s look questioningly.

         “Someone like me?” 

         “You weren’t made for how things are around here.”

         “And you were? Or your wife and kids? Daryl?” 

The Mexican shrugged.

         “We can manage. We’ve got no choice. You do. – Go.”

         “You know Daryl, don’t you?”

         “What’s he done?”

Rick’s eyes widened.

         “Done? Nothing. I told you he’s a friend.”

The suspicious look in the Mexican’s eyes remained.

         “He ain’t home. He’s visiting his sister today.”

The teenager furrowed his brow.

         “Daryl doesn’t have a sister. Just an older brother named Merle.” 

A test. This had been a test to make sure Rick really was a friend and he appreciated the man’s concern. Even if Daryl _had_ done anything, Morales wasn’t going to just sell him out and give information about him and his whereabouts to a perfect stranger.   
Rick definitely liked the Morales family. All of them, although he hadn’t even met Miranda and Eliza yet.

The man sighed.

         “Of course, I know him. Everybody knows the Dixons.”

_ Dixon.  _ How many months had he known Daryl? How long had he already concidered him a _friend_? It felt like a lifetime, although it was only three months, but in all that time he never even knew Daryl’s last name. It wasn’t important. What’s in a name? 

He wasn’t sure if the Mexican was implying anything or not and he never got to finish that train of thought. The same moment Morales pointed towards a trailer further down the street, a familiar gruff voice behind them said:

         “The hell ya doin’ here?”

With a relieved sigh Rick turned around and started to smile. He had grown extremely fond of this picture – Daryl in his usual attire with the crossbow slung over his shoulder – and in this place he was even more a sight for sore eyes than usual.   
But the archer didn’t return the smile and the angry glow in his eyes left no doubt that he wasn’t happy to see his friend. 

At a lack for words Rick just shrugged, while Daryl cast a look around. He was embarassed to the core that Rick saw where and how he lived – he had never meant for him to see this – and it was a dangerous place for a rich kid. It was worry even more than anger that made him react this gruffly. 

         “I got this”, he said to the Mexican, who stood next to the teenagers, undecided whether he was supposed to leave them alone or not. 

The man gave a curt nod. Daryl could take care of himself and he knew how to handle things around here, so for the time being it was probably best to leave them be. But Morales would stay in sight and make sure the _sore thumb_ left here unharmed.   
Daryl was a good kid, despite being a Dixon. And his wife had taken a real shine to him. He was adorable with their children and helped, if he could.  
The Mexican knew Will Dixon, too.   
If anyone deserved and badly needed a friend, it was Daryl. And if this boy here was that friend he’d been longing for, then Morales would be damned to let anything happen to him. 

The moment the man had left and was headed to his trailer down the road, Daryl turned around to Rick and held out his hand.

         “Gimme yer cell.” 

         “What?”

         “Don’t play dumb and deaf, just gimme yer cell. Hurry up, man.”

With a frown Rick reached into his pocket and was surprised when Daryl moved closer to him and snatched the phone quicker than he could react. The next second it had disappeared into the inside pocket of the archer’s jacket. 

         “Ya gotta leave. Now.”

         “But I need to talk to you about something.”

         “Not here and not now. C’mon.”

Daryl got hold of Rick’s sleeve and pulled him along.

         “Are you coming to the lake later?”

         “Dunno. Maybe.”

Accompanied by a dark scowl and his grumpy inflection his reply clearly translated into “No”. Rick had messed up, had overstepped a line he shouldn’t even have come close to. 

         “I’m sorry, Daryl. I shouldn’t have come here.”

         “Damn right! Why the hell d’ya have ta do this? Ya got no idea …”

         “Look who we got here”, a new voice nearby stopped him in midsentence and had Rick freeze. 

Not again!

         “If it isn’t one of the Dixon rats and a pretty white boy. Cell phone – now!” 

Rick saw how Daryl’s entire body tensed up. Unlike himself though the archer didn’t freeze of fear, he prepared for a fight. Rick pressed his lips together. God, what had he started simply by setting foot into this neighborhood?

         “Get lost, Tomas!” Daryl growled at the guy in front of them.

It was a Latino in his mid 20s. His shoulder-length dark hair was slicked back with gel, he was sporting a mustache and everything about him, from his posture to the expression in his brown eyes, spoke of danger, violence and a person with no conscience.   
Rick had thought Negan was bad, but he just realized that things could always get worse. 

         “I told you to gimme your cell phone, asshole”, Tomas addressed Rick and took a threatening step closer to him.

Instantly Daryl stepped protectively in front of his friend.

         “And I told ya ta get lost. I ain’t got no cell, ya know that, and he ain’t stupid enough ta bring one here.”

         “He was stupid enough to bring those sneakers and an expensive bike, right?”

He gave a signal and from behind a nearby trailer three more men his age approached the two teenagers. There were two black guys, who Daryl identified as Andrew and Shumpert and a white man called Mitch Dolgen, who was at least as bad as Tomas himself. 

Daryl let the crossbow slide off his shoulder.

         “This ain’t no air gun, Tomas.”

The Latino sneered and lifted the hem of his shirt to show a gun that stuck in his waistband. 

         “Neither’s mine.”

         “Look, guys”, Rick dared cut in, “if this is about my five dollar Nike copies – you can have them.”

Tomas’ piercing look focused on him now.

         “What?”

         “You didn’t seriously think I’d wear real ones, right?”

         “Whadda you saying, curly?” Mitch said threateningly. “That we’re thieves around here?” 

Daryl rolled his eyes.

         “Nah, yer all choir boys, we get it. Now leave him alone.”

         “Honestly”, Rick added quickly. “It says ‘made in China’ somewhere inside. I can show you, but I gotta warn you – I’ve been wearing that cheap plastic crap all morning and if I take them off, it’s gonna be ugly.” 

Despite the tight situation Daryl had to suppress a grin.    

         “Think that’s funny, Dixon?” Tomas hissed in his face. “You’re a piece of shit just like the rest of you Dixons. And you gonna end up in the same place as your stupid brother one day.”

         “Nah, ‘m just gonna visit ya douchebags there ‘n’ laugh in yer dumb faces.” 

         “But for now”, Shumpert cut in, “you and Curly are the douchebags around here and you ain’t going nowhere before you’ve paid your dues.”

He pointed at Rick’s bike. 

         “That should do for now.” 

Daryl raised the crossbow the same moment Tomas’ hand came to rest on the butt of his gun.  
Rick pushed the bike into Shumpert’s direction and raised his hands defensively.

         “Here, everything’s cool, okay? Take the bike.”

The Latino and his friends stared at him for a moment, then Tomas spit right in front of Rick and Daryl’s feet.

         “You sorry pricks.”

With that said he gave the others a signal and laughing derisively the four of them walked away.   
Just as Rick let out his breath in relief, Daryl whirled around on his heels and gave him a rough shove.

         “The hell ya think yer doin’?” 

Before Rick could recover from his surprise and reply, Daryl yelled:  
          
         “If ya don’t know the rules a’ the game, keep yer damn mouth shut.”

         “He has a gun!” Rick defended his action.

         “So what? I got a crossbow and I ain’t carryin’ it ‘cause it looks cool. That’s how it’s played. Both sides have their weapons ‘n’ they make sure the other side believes they gonna use ‘em, too, if they try ta screw with ‘em. ‘s what keeps things in balance. ‘n that’s why ya never, _never_ give in ‘n’ just give ‘em what they want, God damnit.”

         “You would have risked getting shot over a stupid bike?”

         “Ya ain’t gettin’ it, do ya? It don’t matter what’s it about. If ya get bullied at school, only chance ya got is ta fight back or ya always gonna be the one they pick on. School never ends here, Rick. _You_ gonna go home, but _I_ gotta live with ‘em jerks.”

         “That’s what I wanted to talk to you …”

         “They’re all at least ten years older than me ‘n’ degenerated scum.”  
Daryl was too upset to even listen to Rick.  
“D’ya got any idea what it took ta have ‘em respect me enough ta keep outta ma face for the most part? ‘m all alone ‘round here, man. The ol’ fart sure ain’t gonna help me and with Merle gone …”

He broke off and breathed in deep, trying to calm down.  
It just never stopped, not for one single day. Things were never easy, never, and they kept getting harder. Daryl hated his life. Sometimes he wondered why he still kept up the fight. 

         “Is he …” Rick started cautiously. “Is he dead?” 

Daryl thought he heard a quiver in Rick’s voice and cast him a glance, sighing.

         “Nah, ‘s like I said – he’s got his own four walls. I just didn’t say the windows had bars. He’s in jail – in Mahanoy. Jackass tried ta rob a bar. _Tomas_ ’ bar.”   
He rolled his eyes.  
         “Guess brains don’t run in the family.”

He kept dragging Rick along. Away from the street, away from the trailers and towards the woods.

         “’s just … he promised, ya know.” Daryl’s voice was thick with emotions suddenly. “Promised ta find a job ‘n’ a place for us, so we can get outta here. But he never kept no promises. Never.”

Rick stopped abruptly and grabbed his friend by the shoulders.

         “That’s why I came to see this place for myself. So I can tell my dad. He knows people. He can help you. There’s laws, Daryl. You don’t have to live here – with him, with _them._ ”

Daryl shook Rick’s hands off his shoulders and took a step back.

         “Nah! Promise me ya ain’t gonna tell yer dad nothing. – ‘n’ nobody else, neither. Promise me!”

         “But he’s hurting you!” Rick protested, pointing in the direction of the Dixons’ trailer.

         “No shit! Guess what – I’ve noticed! But ya can’t be so naïve ta think tellin’ yer dad or the cops or anyone else ‘s gonna change a thing. I‘m pushin’ seventeen, Rick. Ya think there’s a line a’ nice foster families who can’t wait ta take someone like me in?”  
          
He gave a derisive snort before he continued:

         “They gonna dump me in some place where all the kids end up that no one wants. Or make me stay in a foster family who takes in _difficult_ kids because they get money for it, not ‘cause they care. Think ‘s gonna be different for me in those places than it’s ‘round here?”

Rick had turned pale and made a couple of helpless gestures, not sure what to do with his hands or how to convince Daryl that he just needed to _do_ something.

         “But … but your dad …”

         “Rick. When it gets too bad I got the woods here. They’re ma refuge, the place I can run to – place I’m happy. If ya tell the authorities ‘n’ they take me away … ‘m gonna lose everything I love. There’s no tellin’ where that new home’d be. I couldn’t go ta all the places I showed ya no more or meet ya at the lake … I may never see ya again.” 

Rick felt as though someone had punched him in the guts. He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought the entire thing through obviously. Naïve, yes, that’s what he was, but while Fortune may favor fools, Fate apparently did not. 

His shoulders sagged and he felt completely deflated. All his plans and hopes for Daryl – they wouldn’t happen. Whatever he did, it would always backfire and make things even worse. Rick had never felt so helpless and frustrated in his entire life.

         “Don’t beat yerself up”, Daryl said softly. “’m used ta all this crap. ‘s okay.” 

For a moment Daryl wished he could believe his own words. He tugged at Rick’s sleeve and with weary steps the two teenagers headed into the woods.   
The archer adjusted his crossbow, that was slung over his shoulder again, and cast a quick glance back.

         “They following us?” Rick asked nervously.

         “Nah, don’t worry. Tomas got lost in the woods a few years back.”   
The ghost of a smile flashed over his face.  
         “Sound familiar?”

         “Don’t know what you’re talking about”, Rick teased and couldn’t help smiling when Daryl nudged his shoulder.

         “Unlike someone I know”, the hunter continued, “he hadda stay the night in the woods ‘n’ swears they’re haunted.”  
Despite himself Daryl chuckled.  
         “There’s only one ghost in these woods”, he winked at Rick, “but that scared the shit outta that jackass ‘n’ he never dared show his stupid face around here no more. ‘n’ the others ain’t got brains a’ their own – they just follow his lead, no matter what he does. Idiots.”

Rick cast him a thoughtful look.

         “So you think people who follow are stupid or weak?”

         “Nah, if they _choose_ ta follow, step back ‘n’ place their trust ‘n’ maybe even their life into the leader’s hands, that takes a lot. Makes ‘em even stronger than the one in front, I’d say. But Mitch ‘n’ the others – they’re just morons, who can’t think for ‘emselves. – That makes ‘em even more dangerous.”

They walked quietly for a while, a heavy, ominous silence between them.  
Daryl was chewing his lower lip, while his thoughts were racing. Rick had no idea that he may have set off an avalanche by showing up in _Terminus_ and worst of all, handing over his bike.  
They knew now. Knew that Daryl was friends with one of the rich kids and, no doubt, neither Tomas nor Negan or any of the others gave a second thought on how or where they’d met. All that mattered to them was that there was more where the bike came from – and Daryl was their way to it.   
Would they force him to go to Rick’s home and steal from the Grimes? Would they follow him despite the woods being _haunted_ to find out where Rick lived, where they met? Would they dare threaten Rick or his family? Would they have to look over their shoulders at all times from now on?   
Daryl might lose his safe haven in this forest, too. The only place he’d been able to run to, the only place he could find some peace and rest.   
In _Terminus_ he always had to sleep with one eye and ear open, always alert, always ready to react to a possible attack. And now it would be even worse – he’d be threatened by his father when Will Dixon was home and by the others when he was not. Daryl had to be on guard 24/7 from now on and maybe not even the woods would be a refuge any longer.  
He was trapped with no place to run. There was danger no matter where he turned and on realizing that, Daryl had to fight a wave of panic that threatened to wash over him.   
He was tired, physically and mentally. So incredibly tired. And the one person, who had given him a reason to hold on and _hope_ , may have sealed his doom today and didn’t even know it. 

They reached the lake and Daryl pointed into the direction _Hilltop_ was located.

         “Ya can find yer way from here, right?” 

Rick nodded wordlessly.

         “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. I meant well.”

         “I know. ‘s just – I told ya, ya can’t save me ‘n’ ya shoulda just left it. They know now that we’re … that we know each other.”

         _Know each other_?  
Rick didn’t catch Daryl’s meaning, didn’t realize the danger he may have put them both in. Maybe because there were things more important than that.

         “I thought we were friends.” 

         “Friends …” Daryl sighed. “How can we be friends, Rick? You saw it! We are from completely different worlds, man, ‘n’ just knowin’ each other means trouble for both of us. ‘s never gonna work.

         “And who’s giving in now?” Rick said agitatedly. “You gonna let them win so easily?”

         “They are dangerous, Rick!”

         “I wasn’t just talking about Tomas or Negan. I meant the folks at _Hilltop_ just the same. You’re right – we come from different worlds, but that doesn’t mean _we_ are different, too. In fact”, he swallowed thickly, “I never met anyone else who understands me the way you do.”

Daryl lifted his head and they looked each other deep in the eyes. They both felt the same and they knew it, too. 

         “Don’t let them win”, Rick croaked out. “We can work it out.”   

The archer looked at him deadpan for a long moment, then he nodded with a sigh. He had no idea how they were supposed to _work it out_ , but it was worth a try. Maybe they’d be able to find a way and maybe in time their problems would just dissolve. 

Daryl bit his lip again. Who was naïve now? 

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled the cell out and held it out to Rick. The other boy looked at it quietly for a moment and then said with a shaking of his head. 

         “Keep it. If they’re giving you trouble back there, you can call for help.”

         “Yeah, ‘n’ get arrested for stealin’ an expensive cell like that. Besides – how long d’ya think ‘m gonna be able ta keep it ‘fore those douchebags notice it and take it away? It may dawn on ‘em soon enough that there’s more where that bike came from ‘n’ if they see me with a cell or other fancy stuff, ‘s gonna put us both in danger.”  
_ “Even more than we already are” _ , he added mentally. 

He pushed the cell into Rick’s hands.  
           
         “Take it back.”

With a sigh Rick complied and then looked at the device thoughtful for a moment.  
          
         “Whadda you gonna do, if you need help?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.

         “What I’ve always done – fight back or run ‘n’ hide. Don’t matter. Whatever’s supposed ta happen, ‘s gonna happen, Rick. Nothin’ ya can do ‘bout it.”

Swallowing against a sudden raspy sensation in the back of his throat, Rick nodded.  
          
         “If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

Turning around and walking away from Daryl was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but after a long silent moment he forced his feet to move and head into the direction of _Hilltop._

          “Hey”, Daryl’s voice stopped him once more. “’em shoes really made in China?”

         “Did I really not have a cell?” Rick replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

         “Thought so. Take care, do-gooder.” 

With a curt nod Rick started walking again. One step, two steps, three … The next moment he turned around on his heels and almost ran back to Daryl. He pulled him into a tight embrace and felt the hug being returned instantly.   
They didn’t say a word for a long time, just held each other, both fighting with an overwhelming amount of emotions and thoughts.   
Daryl didn’t feel the cool autumn breeze that ruffled his hair or the weight of the crossbow on his shoulder. He just felt Rick’s body pressed against his own and here, in the other boy’s arms, was the peace and safety he so longed for.   
It wouldn’t last, would prove fallacious soon enough, but right now he indulged in it, wishing he could stop the time and stay in this moment forever.   
Tears welled up in his eyes and desperately he tried to swallow them down.

         “Ya gotta go”, he whispered to Rick, but the other boy made no move to let go.  
“Just go”, Daryl croaked and reluctantly pushed his friend away from him.

Hesitatingly Rick took a step back and looked at him with suspiciously shiny eyes, but Daryl just stared at the tips of his shoes. 

         “Please”, the archer said hoarsely.

Without another word Rick turned around and started walking home with a heavy heart and feet that felt as though they were made of lead.   
As soon as he was out of sight, Daryl slumped to the ground and started sobbing. Despair, hopelessness, fear – it all washed over him and had hot tears run down his cheeks.  
Not too far away the curly-haired teenager stumbled on, although all he really wanted to do was turn back. He was crying and he knew that Daryl was, too. 


	6. Chapter 6

It was raining the next day and heavy winds were shaking the trees, causing the dry leaves to whirl around and dance a morbid dance of evanescence.   
Despite the danger of being in the woods during a storm, Rick was at the lake, waiting for Daryl.   
No matter what kind of weather he had to deal with, Rick knew that his friend would be out here. He had to. For Daryl being in the woods hunting meant survival, so whether it was 100°F or below zero temperatures and a snow storm, there was no relaxing in a comfortable recliner in front of the TV or sleeping in. He would be out here and so Rick would, too.   
He had to see Daryl. Had to make sure he was alright. As _alright_ as a person living in _Terminus_ could possibly be.   
But Rick waited in vain that day. Same as the one after and the one after that. By day four he was out of his wits with worry. 

He couldn’t concentrate in school anymore or focus on anything he was doing at home. His thoughts were with Daryl every second of the day and the fear for his friend’s safety choked him and had his stomach in knots. He lost his appetite, couldn’t sleep and was both nervous and absentminded. 

        “Honey, are you alright?” Catherine Grimes asked him on the fifth day and for a moment pulled Rick out of his stupor. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, only to notice his dad a few steps away casting him a concerned glance as well, waiting for his son’s answer. Why was Jim even home? And where was that blasted cell he was usually attached to?   
This was the first time in ages his parents showed honest concern and worried about him and Rick’s heart skipped a beat.   
They had their flaws and this family sure had its problems, but Rick felt blessed in that moment. Understood for the first time ever just how lucky he was.   
It was so unfair. He hadn’t done anything to deserve parents who loved him and a home like this, just like Daryl hadn’t done anything to deserve the hell he was living in. It was fate. 

Rick gave his mom a hug and kissed her on the cheek. 

        “I’m fine, thanks, mom”, he said and felt new determination wash over him.

He’d be damned, if he didn’t piss on fate’s parade. 

That day he headed out to the lake with the huge hiking backpack that had been sitting in the basement since the day they had moved in.  
It was one of the many things that had been bought once with the good intent to put them to use one day. The “Let’s go on a hiking trip together” or “Let’s go fishing together” or “We should go skiing next winter” plans that had all of them fallen through.   
There were backpacks, skis, sleeping bags, a tent, complete camping gear, bikes, skates and lots of other things down there that were brand new and never used. They could have opened a store in that basement.

Rick however had other plans.

He had packed the tent, the camping gear that included matches, cookware and a flashlight, a sleeping bag, some of his warm sweaters as well as food and was now headed to the lake.   
The plan had formed during maths class that morning and developed during geography and physics, until he had made up his mind during Miss Peletier’s English class. Plan B was active as of now.  
He had waited until his dad had disappeared into his study and his mom was taking a nap. Then he had grabbed the backpack and sneaked out.   
The streets were empty as he headed out back over the meadows into the direction of the woods and he was grateful for that. At this time of the year there were no lawns to be mowed, hedges to trim or flower beds to weed. The weather was unpleasant and nobody who didn’t _have_ to be out there was. And who in this neighborhood _had_ to be outside?   
They drove their cars to work or shopping, probably even entered and left their garages through a connecting door and opened the garage doors with remote controls, so technically no one here had to set a foot outside of their houses all winter long.   
All the better. Unless someone looked out of their window now or had to walk their dog, him heading into the woods with his load should have gone unnoticed. He didn’t want curious questions.   
Rick was well aware of the fact that there was talk already, because word of his excursions the previous months as well as that _odd person_ being at the Grimes’ home twice had spread like wildfire. He had no intention to add fuel to the flame. The less people knew, the better. 

At the lake he waited until it started to grow dark, but there was no sign of Daryl. Rick gritted his teeth.  
Either something had happened or the other boy was avoiding him deliberately. Deep down inside Rick knew it was the latter. That stubborn sonuva … He attached a note to the backpack that he had written already back home. Somehow he had had a hunch that Daryl wouldn’t show again and he was prepared for that.   
When he left, the supplies and the note were securely covered with a large transparent plastic sheet to protect them from the elements. Daryl would find them. He may have made it a habit to not show up when Rick was here, but the curly-haired boy _knew_ he was out here, maybe even near enough to watch him. He could feel it.  
Hopefully Daryl wouldn’t be too stubborn to accept the only help he was able to offer.

 

*******

 

The next day was a Saturday and right after breakfast Rick excused himself and said he was going to meet with Daryl.  
His parents had long since accepted that the name ‘Daryl’ was mentioned quite often and that, although their son apparently spent lots of time with his new friend, he was reluctant to bring him home. Jim had asked Rick once why he didn’t just invite Daryl over and the boy had told him the truth, sort of. Had said that his friend preferred to be out in the woods and that it was more fun out there than sitting in front of the TV or Playstation.   
Jim and Catherine had highly approved of their son being outdoors and were happy that he had found a new friend. Rick knew that these days they were wondering though how much ‘fun’ being in the woods could still be while it was raining and autumn storms were raging. But they kept quiet, probably figuring that a 16-year-old should be allowed to make his own decisions, needed to find his own way. And then maybe they just didn’t care. 

When he stepped out of the woods and approached the spot by the lake where he had left the supplies the day before, Rick cursed under his breath. They were still there.   
That alone wasn’t the reason for Rick’s frustration. The backpack being untouched could have meant Daryl just hadn’t been by the lake the previous day, but the crossbow bolt that stuck in the side of the backpack indicated clearly that the archer had been here. 

        “What the hell did you do that for?” Rick called out into the woods, hoping Daryl might be there and close enough to hear him.

He crouched next to the bag and took a closer look. Daryl had been here alright. And he had inspected the contents, too, and read the note. Why didn’t he just take it? Was it pride or stubbornness? Shame? Anger maybe? Was he still pissed off about Rick showing up in _Terminus?_

Rick picked up his own note and reread the words he had left for his friend:

_ Daryl, _

_ I’m really sorry for causing you so much trouble. _  
_ I meant no harm, didn’t think anything by it paying your home a visit. _  
_ I had no idea it was so bad and now I’ve made it even worse. _  
_ Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t save you.  _  
_ But I’ve got to try, got to do something. _  
_ It’s time all that stuff that is piling up in our basement had a purpose, _  
_ so take it, please. _  
_ May not be the perfect time of the year for camping, _  
_ but maybe you can use that cave you took me to the other day. _  
_ And don’t tell me there’s really a bear living in there! _  
_ The clothes and sleeping bag should keep you warm, you can light a fire, there’s food and you can use the sheet to seal off the entrance.  _  
_ It’s not gonna be the Hilton, but a place to stay if things get too bad and you got nowhere else to go. _  
_ You know where I am and the door’s always open, but I don’t expect you to come. _  
_ You probably can’t. _

_ Take care – _  
_ Rick _

Daryl had left his reply right underneath.

_ Don’t need your charity, told you that before. _  
_ I was always good on my own and I gotta stay being good on my own. _  
_ Can’t rely on no one. _  
_ Don’t come here no more. _

        “You gotta be kidding me, Dixon!” Rick yelled at the leafless trees around him, while he stood and kicked the backpack in helpless frustration.

He pulled the pen out of their message bottle, that they had left there permanently to leave each other notes, and scribbled his reply underneath Daryl’s words:

_ You won’t get rid of me that easily. _  
_ No matter what you say – I’m your friend and I always will be.  _  
_ Want me to or not.  _  
_ I will keep coming here and if you don’t take this stuff, _  
_ I’m gonna come to Terminus and leave it at your doorstep. _  
_ Don’t think I wouldn’t. _  
_ I know you’re good on your own, but you don’t have to be. _  
_ Nobody should be alone. _  
_ Accepting help isn’t gonna kill you.  _  
_ Not accepting it might.  _  
_ And **I** am not good on my own. _  
_ I need you. _

For a moment he hesitated, wondering if this was too honest and if revealing to his friend how much he meant would scare him off for good. But if there had ever been a time for honesty, it was now. What did he have to lose save for Daryl? 

Rick attached the note to the backpack again, covered it properly with the sheet once more and then walked back home with slumped shoulders. Damn this entire screwed up situation. He wondered what Shane would say, if he saw him now. 

 

When he returned the next day, the supplies were gone, as was the note. And there was no new one, no reply.   
There was no way of telling, if Daryl accepted them and agreed with Rick. Or if he had just removed them and dumped them some place to be left alone. He knew that Rick would never find his way to that cave to check if those things were put to use the way he suggested. They were back to square one. 

The teenager ran his hands through his hair and once more cursed under his breath.

        “Alright. You wanna be a stubborn sonuvabitch – that game can be played by two.”

Later that day he left a bag with food, only to find a bolt sticking in it like before when he returned the next day.   
Rick laughed out loud.  
So Daryl did come back here. Obviously Rick’s words in the note had been convincing enough.   
And he had meant every single one of them. He would return and try to help Daryl and he would never stop considering him a friend. That was a promise and he would show Daryl that some people kept their promises.   
He left a second bag next to the first and attached a new note running:

_ No. 3 will be taken right to your doorstep. _  
_ How long do you plan to keep this up? _

Daryl was leaning with his back against a tree, his arms crossed before the chest, when Rick came to the lake a day later, and sent him a scowl the moment he saw him.

        “Yer one stubborn jackass, just so ya know.”

Rick shrugged unimpressed.  
         
        “I knew we had something in common.” 

Daryl just stared at him deadpan, but Rick thought he saw an amused sparkle in the shadow blue eyes. 

        “Why did you shoot the spaghetti?” he added and this time a genuine smile spread over Daryl’s face.

        “Ol’ habit. I‘m used ta shootin’ ma food.”

They both broke out laughing and it felt good to hear that sound again. It had been too silent for too long around here. 

        “Tell me you kept those things”, Rick said unexpectedly, having both of them sober up. 

        “Why? Want ‘em back?”

        “No, God damnit, I want you to _use_ them. You know that damn well, and now stop trying to piss me off or push me away by being such a fucking asshole.”

        “Whoa. Does yer momma know ya swearin’ like a sailor?” 

The joke fell flat. Rick just tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and Daryl felt bad for giving him such a hard time. He knew Rick only meant well. In fact, no one else had ever done half as much for him.

        “Yeah”, he added after a moment. “Sure I kept ‘em. Took ‘em to the cave like ya said – ‘twas actually a great idea.”

        “Glad you could work things out with Pooh.” 

Daryl chuckled, but there was still a sad or even annoyed undertone in Rick’s inflection that didn’t go unnoticed.

        “D’ya wanna come check it out? Ain’t that far from here.”

        “Sure.”

They had walked quietly for about twenty minutes when Daryl pointed to the entrance of the cave. He _had_ covered it with the transparent plastic sheet to keep the wind out and had piled up lots of scrub and branches of evergreens for camouflage.   
Rick cautiously pushed the sheet aside and peeked in, which had a smile tug at Daryl’s lips.

        “Pooh ain’t home, no sweat.” 

        “Idiot.” 

He stepped inside and instantly a smile spread over his face.   
It looked actually cosy in here and way nicer than he had expected. Daryl had cleared the sandy ground of old leaves, twigs and stones and had pitched up the tent in back of the cave next to a fire pit. Rick could spot the sleeping bag and his warm sweaters inside the tent and to the left side of the ‘room’ the food supplies were neatly set against the wall, the bags and cans even assorted by contents. 

        “You’re gonna be a perfect housewife one day”, Rick teased and got pinched in the side for the remark. 

He laughed.

        “No, seriously, this is cool, Daryl.”

        “Yeah, although ma ol’ man oughta be livin’ in a cave way he’s behavin’”, Daryl said with a bitter inflection. 

Without giving it any thought Rick placed an arm around his shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

        “Know what? I really think this cave is much nicer than those trailers back in _Terminus._ And you got your peace and quiet here.”

Daryl leaned into him for a moment and indulged in the contact, before he pulled back again.

        “Ya make it sound as though ya’d expect me ta live here. Can’t just leave _Terminus_ , man. Ma pa’s gonna burn down the forest if I ain’t comin’ back ta bring him his food, smokes ‘n’ booze.”

Rick sighed.

        “I know. Still, I’m glad you’re having this place now.”

        “ _We’re_ havin’ this place now.” He looked his friend deep in the eyes. “I’s afraid  not ta see ya all winter when it gets too cold ta be by the lake. But now we got a place ta meet.”

        “So you still wanna see me after all, huh?” 

Daryl shrugged.

        “Got kinda used ta yer ugly mug.”

A sudden flash of lightning spared Rick an answer and a moment later the rumbling of thunder rolled over the treetops. 

        “Oh brother”, Rick peeked outside and looked up into the black sky, “thunderstorm’s approaching. We never gonna get back home before it’s here.”  

The first raindrops fell even before he had finished the sentence.

        “Ain’t ya gettin’ tired a’ bein’ right all the time?” Daryl teased.

A second lightning brightened the late afternoon twilight, shortly afterwards followed by a crack of thunder that was twice as loud as the first one. The wind had picked up considerably and bent the trees violently, accompanied by a howling sound as it sped through the leafless branches.   
Rick stepped back from the entrance of the cave, wondering if the plastic sheet would be able to withstand the squalls, and sat down next to Daryl in front of the tent. 

        “Guess we’re gonna have to stay a little longer.”  
He didn’t sound sad about that in the least, just slightly worried.  
        “Will that get you in trouble back home?”

        “Nah”, Daryl shook his head. “Shot a deer yesterday ‘n’ some idiot keeps forgettin’ bags full a’ food in the woods …”   
He cast Rick a smirk.  
        “The ol’ fart’s happy ‘n’ sure as hell ain’t missin’ me.”

The other boy nodded with a sad air on his handsome face.

        “How do you get the beer and smokes?” he dared ask, regretting the question instantly.

Did he really want to know the answer? Was he pushing his friend into a corner now, implying things? 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the smirk on Daryl’s face vanish.

        “Whadda ya askin’, man? Think I‘s stealin’ that stuff?”  

        “No. Just wondering where you shoot beer and smokes, that’s all”, he tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but it fell flat.

        “I ain’t stealin’ nothin’, just so ya know. Never have. Merle made sure a’ that, kept me outta trouble.”

        “Sounds as though he was a cool big brother.”

        “Told ya he’s a jackass, but … I owe him, I guess. He did what hadda be done ‘n’ was in juvi often enough ta know what it’s like. Made sure I never ended up there.”

        _“Yer too sweet for a place like that, Darylena. They’re just waitin’ for a pussy like ya with ‘em baby blues ‘n’ all, so no matter what the ol’ man says, ya gonna leave business ta me. Ya hear me, li’l brother?”_

Daryl swallowed against a lump in his throat as Merle’s words echoed in his mind. His brother may have pushed all this buttons often enough and he definitely had his flaws, but Daryl missed him, no matter how often he tried to convince himself that he didn’t. 

        “I get ta help at Martinez’s garage once in a while”, he added after a moment of silence.   
        “Like ‘em bikes. They’re cool. He let’s me do smaller jobs or run errands ‘n’ stuff. Get a few bucks for it ‘n’ give ‘em to Morales ta get me the booze ‘n’ smokes. ‘s how it works.”

Rick furrowed his brow.

        “You go hunting so your father can eat and you’re working so he can get shitfaced. And in return he beats you up. That it?”

Daryl shrugged.

        “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal if ya put it that way. – How’s yer mom?” he changed the subject quickly.

        “Hard to tell”, Rick answered honestly. “It keeps changing. Up and down like a rollercoaster. You never know in the morning what kind of day it’s gonna be, good or bad. It’s exhausting.”

        “For who?” 

        “All of us, I guess.”

        “Huh”, Daryl cast him a side glance. “But ya can walk away if it’s too bad. She can’t.” 

Rick lifted his head and looked at his friend in surprise.   
This wasn’t the first time he had noticed that Daryl was way more sensitive, empathetic even, than one would have expected and Rick was deeply impressed by this. He wondered if Daryl even knew how special a gift this was.

        “Remember I told you that I talked to her about Thanksgiving the other day?”  
         
          “Uh-huh. So?“

          “I know you said you hated all the holidays, but … it’s family tradition that I get to invite a friend and … my mom said you were special and … I … I agree and I … _we_ would really like you to come.”

It was totally quiet in the little cave for a moment, save for the raging storm outside. At a lack for words Daryl started chewing his thumbnail and thought about the extended invitation, before he dared meet Rick’s eyes.

        “Ya allowed ta invite a friend? Ain’t that a family holiday?” he asked nervously.

        “I guess, but my dad used to say that your best friend is family, too.” 

Daryl’s eyes widened for a second, before he tried to hide his churning emotions behind a deadpan. _Best friend …_

        “So what about that Shane dude you told me about?”

Rick’s eyes turned sad at the mention of his old friend, but the disappointment fueled the anger that was seething deep down inside.

        “He doesn’t want to be part of that family anymore. I barely hear from him and when I do, it’s all about him and the chicks he’s seeing. – He even forgot my birthday.”

        “When‘s yer birthday?” Daryl asked hesitatingly and grew pale when Rick answered:

        “September 14th.” 

        “Damn, man, ya shoulda said somethin’.”

        “We didn’t see each other that day and why would I bring it up?”

        “Right”, the archer cut in, “’s like I said – days like that ain’t really important. B-day’s just the date someone decided ta drop ya into this world, without even askin’ ya if ya wanted ta be here at all.”

Rick’s head whipped around and he looked at his friend with wide eyes.

        “No”, he said determinedly, “it’s the date people who love you celebrate that you’re there, because they’re glad you are. And Shane … well, he doesn’t seem to care anymore.”

He knew he sounded bitter and hurt, but Rick couldn’t help these feelings. Being deserted by someone who once was the person closest to him was devastating, and it would take time to get over it.

        “I do”, Daryl said barely audible. “I care. Just didn’t know ‘twas yer birthday. ‘m gonna remember next year.”

That had a smile tug on Rick’s lips and he looked up to meet Daryl’s eyes.   
Next year … It meant Daryl had every intention to keep this friendship going and was sure they’d still be here, together, a year from now. It touched Rick more than he could tell. 

        “When’s your birthday?” he asked. 

        “Never mind that. Told ya I hate holidays.”

        “And I told you a birthday calls for celebration, because people are glad that particular person is there. And … I … I _am_ glad you’re there.”   
He blushed. Had this been too sappy now?  
        “Tell me already”, he added. 

        “January”, Daryl grumbled. 

        “The _day_ , Dixon”, Rick insisted with a smile. “Or did you wanna have a party each of the thirty-one days?”

        “Don’t want no party at all.”

        “Date! Now!”

        “The sixth, for cryin’ out loud. Happy now?” he said gruffly, while Rick’s smile widened.

        “Immensely.”

Daryl cast him a probing glance and felt his heart beat faster. Rick actually looked happy – his smile made his eyes shine brighter and his cheeks were slightly blushed.

        “Ya really are a sucker for holidays, huh?”

        “Guilty as charged”, the other boy admitted. “So what about Thanksgiving now? You in?”

There was a hopeful undertone in his inflection and Daryl didn’t have the heart to say ‘no’. This really seemed to mean a lot to Rick.

        “Yeah. If it makes ya happy.”

Rick’s smile slightly quivered, while he nodded wordlessly. 

        _“Only thing that could possibly save that day”,_ he thought. 

For a moment they sat silently next to each other, lost in thought, when Daryl looked up and cast a glance towards the exit. 

        “’s growing dark. Ya ain’t gonna make it home till nightfall.”

        “Maybe I had better leave now.”

        “Ya can’t. ‘s too dangerous in the woods during a thunderstorm – lightnin’ might strike a tree or a big branch‘s gonna come fallin’ down. No way ya gonna leave till it’s over.”

Rick suppressed a smirk.

        “Yes, mom.” 

        “Ain’t kiddin’”, Daryl grumbled. “But yer parents are gonna worry.”

        “Probably, but I’m not a little boy anymore. And I told them I was gonna meet you, so maybe they won’t call the cops before dinner.”

He rolled his eyes. 

        “Sometimes I’d like a little more attention from them and then other times they totally overreact and worry too much.”

        “Huh. I got lost in the woods when I’s six. Merle was in juvi, ma mom had died and ma pa was on a bender with some waitress. No one even noticed I‘s gone.”  
He sighed.  
        “’s nice when people worry. Means they care.”

        “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” 

Rick was barely able to see Daryl anymore and looked around himself.

        “Where’s that camp light?”

The archer reached behind himself and held the requested item out to his friend. A moment later the light of the lantern illuminated the cave and had eerie shadows dance on the low ceiling and the stony walls.

        “A fire would be nice”, Rick said thoughtful with a look towards the apparently used fire pit.

        “Tried that the other day”, Daryl replied with a shake of his head, “’s nice at first, and warm, but it gets smoky in here pretty quickly. But if ya want a fire, I can …”

        “Never mind.”

Rick pressed his lips together to a thin line.  
The cave was a safe and secret hideaway and he had hoped it could become a refuge for Daryl and a place for them to meet during the winter, but he hadn’t thought about the cold. Without a way to light a fire or any other source of heat, it would be freezing cold and damp in here during the winter months.   
Plan B may go down the drain pretty soon, too, and then they’d run out of options. 

Rick cast his friend a side glance and raised an eyebrow when he noticed Daryl sitting slumped while his eyes drifted close time and again, only to be forced open a moment later.

        “Hey”, he said softly to the hunter, “you wanna take a nap?”

Daryl straightened up and looked at him apologetically.

        “Nah, sorry. Don’t mean ta be a bore.”

        “If I just wanted entertainment, I’d stay home and watch TV.” 

        “Pfff”, Daryl gave a derisive snort, “there’s so much crap on, that watchin’ me sleep ‘s probably way more entertainin’ than TV.”

Rick chuckled.  
         
        “Think so?”

        “’s what I _know._ I mean for a while there was nothin’ but vampire movies ‘n’ these days it’s zombies. Can ya believe it? Zombies! Good Lord, who in their right mind would watch somethin’ like that?”

        “That from someone who dressed up as a zombie on Halloween.”

        “Yeah, but I‘m sixteen. Ain’t these people ever growin’ outta nonsense like that?”

Rick couldn’t help laughing.

        “Sue me – I like it. 

Daryl cast him a meaningful glance.

        “’n’ they call _me_ bad company.”

Rick’s smile vanished instantly.

        “ _They_ are all a bunch of idiots.”

        “No objections there.”

He stifled a yawn. Rick hesitated a moment before he asked cautiously:

        “They giving you a hard time in _Terminus_?”

Daryl growled in the back of his throat, before he said in a dark inflection:

        “Was able ta stay outta their way. Never thought I’d ever say that, but I‘s lucky ma ol’ man was home. They’re all afraid a’ him ‘n’ wouldn’t dare come into our trailer when he’s there. And he left me be, so I’s safe at night. Left every day at the break a’ dawn ‘n’ spent the days in the woods. Told ya Tomas runs a bar, so he never gets up early ‘n’ if he ain’t there, the rest a’ ‘em morons stay in bed, too.”  
He sighed.  
        “’s workin’, but ‘s exhaustin’.”

Rick had a guilty air on his face that didn’t go unnoticed.

        “Forget it, Rick. Ain’t yer fault. Maybe we’re lucky ‘n’ they gonna forget ‘bout ya soon or never even made the connection.”

He yawned again and his speech had started to grow slurred. The light of the camping lantern made the dark circles underneath his eyes stand out and in a weary motion Daryl rubbed both hands over his face. 

        “Go lie down for a while”, Rick said insistently. “There’s no safer place than this and I’m even gonna keep watch.”

A smile spread over Daryl’s face.

        “Ya gonna keep watch? In case Pooh comes home or what?” 

Rick mirrored the smile.

        “You never know. Safety first.”

        “Ya sound like a condom commercial, man.”  

They both chuckled for a moment, but then Daryl complied and crawled into the tent to take the urgently needed nap. He unzipped the sleeping bag and snuggled up inside a moment later. With a relieved sigh he turned onto his side, tucked one arm underneath his head and breathed in deep several times to calm down.  
A sudden crack of thunder startled him and had him cast a look towards the entrance of the cave. So far the sheet was still in place, but it wasn’t able to keep the wind and cold out entirely.   
He squinted at his friend, who sat a few feet away and watched him silently.

        “Ya don’t have ta keep watch, Rick. ‘s like ya said – ain’t no safer place than this.” He patted the spot next to him. “C’mere.”  
        “’s warmer in here”, he added when he noticed a reaction in the younger boy’s eyes.

Was Rick able to hear his racing heartbeat, now that he was crawling into the narrow tent, too, and sat so close to him? Daryl was certain that his frantically beating heart must have drowned out even the thunderstorm. 

He had no idea that Rick was thinking the exact same thing.   
Daryl hadn’t lied to him – it was definitely warmer inside the tent. Or was that just him? He pulled the zipper of his jacket open a couple of inches, while his friend’s blue eyes followed his every move.

        “Go to sleep already”, Rick said softly and cast Daryl a fond smile. 

The shadow blue eyes closed hesitatingly, while Rick crossed his legs to sit indian style by his side. For a long moment it was quiet and the younger boy assumed that Daryl had fallen asleep, when the archer’s voice muttered all of a sudden:

        “I like thunderstorms.”

A smile tugged at Rick’s lips again.

        “Do I have to knock you unconscious or are you gonna sleep now?”

One of Daryl’s eyes cracked open shortly, before it fell shut again a second later.

        “Can’t. ‘s uncomfortable the way ya sittin’ there.”

Rick chuckled.

        “So _you_ can’t sleep, because _I’m_ uncomfortable?”

        “Nah, ya playin’ Sittin’ Bull in his teepee there makes everythin’ here feel uncomfortable. Yer a comfy-campin’-feeling pooper, man.” 

        “I’m a _what_?”

Daryl fought his eyes back open and sighed, while he patted the place next to him again.

        “Ain’t gonna bite ya.”

        “Promises, promises”, Rick teased to mask his nervousness.

What the heck was he nervous about?   
Relenting he let himself sink onto his back and crossed his arms beneath his head.

        “Happy now?” 

        “Immensely”, Daryl mocked him mildly by repeating Rick’s earlier words. 

Then it was quiet again – until Rick asked suddenly:

        “Why do you like thunderstorms?”

        “’cause”, Daryl slurred half asleep, “got nice memories ‘bout ‘em. When I‘s little Merle … Merle lemme sleep in his bed durin’ thunderstorms.”   
He paused for a moment and Rick almost expected him to not continue, but then Daryl picked up again.   
        “Said a li’l _girl_ like me hadda be afraid … Never was though, but … ‘twas nice bein’ close ta someone for a change. I … I think he didn’t do that for me, but himself. Thunderstorm was the only way he’s able ta be close ta someone, too.”

With a surprised air Rick turned his head and looked at Daryl, although his friend’s eyes were firmly shut. Before he was able to say anything, Daryl added sleepily:

        “Know what ya thinkin’. That Merle and I, we was brothers ‘n’ all ‘n’ shouldn’t need alibis. But … ‘s the Dixon rule – no sappy emotional stuff. Gotta be tough all the time ‘n’ a man don’t hug no one. Needs no one, either.”

He dared open his eyes a crack once again and was met by Rick’s flabbergasted expression.

        “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard”, Rick slipped.

For a moment he was afraid Daryl would get angry about him dissing the golden Dixon rule, but the archer didn’t say a word and when his eyes fell shut again there was a smile playing around his lips.  
He yawned once more and shifted a little to get more comfortable, inching closer to Rick in the process.   
Whether that was intentional or not, Rick couldn’t tell, but he had to swallow against a lump in his throat when Daryl’s head touched his shoulder and his arm came to rest in the small gap between them – if he put it out just a little, his hand would come to rest on Rick’s chest.  
It confused the younger boy that he longed for that to happen, that he was even secretly imploring Daryl to put his head on Rick’s shoulder, wrap his arm around him, snuggle up closer …

        “Know why else I like thunderstorms?” Daryl muttered, before he drifted off to sleep. “’s the only time I think God feels the way I does. Only time he understands.”

With that said he fell asleep, while Rick just stared at him with wide eyes and a violently beating heart. 

        _The only time God feels like I do._

Daryl kept saying things like that and despite himself Rick had to fight tears all of a sudden. Time and again the archer dropped dark, sinister, hopeless remarks and after seeing how Daryl had to live, it didn’t come as a surprise that he wasn’t a carefree, happy teenager.   
Rick couldn’t fight the fear deep inside anymore. The fear that Daryl would wake up one morning and decide to give in to his hopelessness, leave this road that was leading nowhere, give up the fight. The thought that Daryl might come to the conclusion that he had nothing worth living for tore Rick’s heart apart.   
What would he do, if Daryl _left_?

A tear ran down his cheek as he gently reached out a hand and pushed a strand of Daryl’s long bangs out of his friend’s face. Greatly daring he ran his fingers lightly over the unruly dark hair, while he was swallowing against the raspy sensation in his throat.

        _“_ I _feel like you, too”,_ he thought. _“Please, don’t leave me.”_

As though he had heard Rick’s thoughts and felt his sadness, Daryl stirred in his sleep and unexpectedly snuggled up to his friend before he lay motionless and fast asleep again.   
A tiny smile played around Rick’s lips and he didn’t even give this any thought.   
        _“If it_ feels _right, it_ is _right.”_  
That’s what his grandfather used to tell him, who had been a very wise and gentle man. If anyone knew, it was him.   
And if anything had ever felt _right_ , it was having Daryl this close by his side. There had got to be a way and together they were going to find it. They had to. 

Rick cocked his head until his cheek rested against Daryl’s hair and closed his eyes.  
Just a little nap to forget all worries and sorrows for a while, just a little peace and sweet oblivion and then, when they woke up, they would try to find a solution, a way out.

        _“You and I, Daryl.”_

Lightning and thunder came further apart as the storm subsided and soon it grew quiet in the little cave. The only sound was the deep and even breathing of the two boys that lay snuggled up to each other, fast asleep and dreaming of brighter days.   


	7. Chapter 7

Thanksgiving came sooner than Rick had expected.   
The day he had extended the invitation it had felt like a lifetime away, but in fact it hadn’t even been two weeks since that night in the cave. 

_ That night in the cave _ . Both apparently in dire need of a good night’s sleep they hadn’t woken till the early morning hours and neither of them had made waking up in each other’s arms an issue.   
They were friends. There was nothing to it. It was what it was.

Rick for his part thought that whatever _it_ was, was most definitely special. Very special. So immensely special that he wouldn’t tell Shane about it, even _if_ his former best friend showed any interest and asked him if there were any news, anyone he met.   
Not too long ago Daryl would have been the only news and the one thing Rick would have liked to talk to Shane about, but that had changed. What united him and Daryl had changed. And Shane would neither understand, nor appreciate it.   
He had never grown tired of making fun of gay people, taunt the _fucking queers_ and let everybody know that he could never be friends with one of _them._  
Rick wasn’t sure if he _was_ one of _them_ or not, what exactly it was he was feeling for Daryl and where their friendship was headed. What he _was_ sure about though was that he liked it, that it felt good, that he wanted this and that he didn’t give a damn what anyone would call it. And it was definitely no one’s business but his and Daryl’s.   
         He wasn’t ashamed, but he would never fill Shane in for one single reason – no one would ever be given the chance to taunt this special bond or say but one hateful word about Daryl. No one. Not even Shane. Especially not Shane. He had lost every right to be part of anything important in Rick’s life.   
Shane was the past. Daryl was his present and his future. He’d make sure of that. 

With heavy hearts they had gone their separate ways after that night in the cave. And having to go home and apologize to his parents for staying away all night with no word, wasn’t what Rick had worried about.   
Jim and Catherine had been in between worry and anger when he got home, but when they heard that their son and Daryl had to take cover from the storm with no means of communication, they had let it pass.   
Jim’s half-hearted “Just don’t let it happen again” had quickly been followed by Catherine’s “Is Daryl alright?” and the mere fact that his parents had been concerned about _both_ of them had made Rick’s day a little brighter.   
Catherine had been delighted when she heard that Daryl would join them for Thanksgiving. Apparently those TicTacs had worked a miracle and Rick’s mom had taken a real shine to the unkempt archer. She didn’t see his shaggy clothes or unruly hair and didn’t mind that he wasn’t one of the upper class boys.   
Cathy Grimes had been able to see beyond all that and had gotten a glimpse of what Rick had seen shining through many times over the past months – a golden heart. 

He had waited for Thanksgiving as eagerly as a child would wait for Christmas.

 

The house smelled wonderfully of the turkey that was roasting in the oven, the sweet potatoes, gravy and various vegetables.   
Rick had set his mind on making this the best Thanksgiving dinner Daryl had ever had, although he couldn’t help the sad thought that a hamburger from McDonald’s would probably do the trick already.   
The closer they had come to the holiday, the more withdrawn and on edge had Catherine grown once again and so Rick had made sure to help as much with preparations as needed. He had gone shopping with his dad and set the table and Jim had assisted Cathy in cooking. In fact, he had probably done more than she had, but the mere fact that they had done _anything_ as a family again had both Grimes men smile despite Catherine’s new depression.   
At 7:08 p.m. the door bell rang and Rick couldn’t help smiling even wider. Daryl was here! And he was round about twenty minutes early. Apparently Rick wasn’t the only one looking forward to this evening.

Outside Daryl stepped nervously from one foot to the other and ran a hand over his hair for the umpteenth time.   
Thanksgiving dinner, good Lord. He had never been invited to anything like this and hadn’t the slightest idea what to expect and, even worse, what would be expected of _him_. He felt uncomfortable already and he hadn’t even set foot inside the house yet.   
That afternoon he had taken a closer look at this wardrobe to decide on what to wear, and had come to the conclusion that it was a draw between torn pants No. 1 and torn pants No. 2 along with either one of the old and worn out sweaters or shirts.   
He just didn’t own a single new or somewhat nice piece of clothing. Until this day he hadn’t cared in the least, but there in front of his closet he had felt a wave of panic all of a sudden. There was no way he could show up to a formal dinner invitation in _Hilltop_ looking like a bum.   
In the end he had picked a pair of black jeans and a striped button-down shirt he had pulled out of a charity bin the other day and had headed over to the Morales’. 

         “I need yer help”, was all he had said when Miranda had answered the door, and in a helpless gesture he had held out the jeans with the hole in one knee and the wrinkled shirt.

The next half hour he had played gin rummy with Eliza and Louis, while their mother had ironed the shirt and stitched the hole in Daryl’s pants. With a wide smile she had presented them in the end and said: 

         “Here you are! Ready to go to your fancy dinner invitation.” 

With a relieved sigh he had given her a thankful hug and was just about to leave, when her voice behind him stopped him.

         “Daryl, honey”, she had said cautiously. “You might wanna take a shower and comb your hair, too. Peeps in those neighborhoods are ridiculously touchy when it comes to stuff like that.”  
         _“And it sure wouldn’t hurt around here, either”,_ she couldn’t help adding mentally, suppressing a smile. 

He had pulled a face and shrugged. This entire dinner thing sure was hell of a hassle and he grew more nervous by the minute.

         “Anythin’ else?”

It wasn’t a sarcastic remark, he really wanted to know. He couldn’t mess up. From the looks of it this evening was immensely important to Rick and although he had already met Mrs. Grimes once, Daryl meant to make a good impression.   
He couldn’t have cared less what Rick’s parents thought of him personally, but there was no way he was going to embarrass his friend. He didn’t want Rick’s mom and dad to think that their son was meeting the wrong people and that he wasn’t worth Rick’s friendship.   
Neat clothes and combed hair wouldn’t make him anything else than he was and for a moment Daryl wondered, if that was a good or a bad thing. They would never find out though, if he made a spectacle of himself or those people would slam the door in his face because of his appearance. 

Miranda had looked at him thoughtful for a moment and then said:

         “Yes, there is one more thing …”

 

The door was pulled open only seconds after Daryl had rung the doorbell and he couldn’t help the impression that Rick had been waiting in the hallway.   
Even before he could follow that train of thought, he was pulled into a hug.

         “Glad you’re here”, Rick just said before he released him again.

Daryl cast him a shy smile and nodded.   
After that night in the cave a hug was the way they greeted each other now, always. They had never said a word about it, never had a single awkward or hesitant moment. The first time they had met after the thunderstorm, they had just hugged as though they had never played it any different. It came natural and it felt as though it was supposed to be that way and no other. 

         “Here!”

Daryl extended a bunch of flowers to Rick and the younger boy couldn’t help chuckling.

         “Are we having a date or something?” he joked.

         “Jackass. Miranda said ya supposed ta bring flowers to a dinner invitation. So there.” 

         “Thanks, but I think they’re for my mom, Daryl. Lady of the house, you know.” 

         “Oh.”  
The older boy blushed slightly and lowered the extended arm.     
         “Ya need ta help me with this stuff. Don’t know what ‘m doin’ here.” 

Rick pulled him gently into the house and closed the door behind him.

         “Relax, Daryl. You’re not invited to dinner at the White House. It’s just my family and good old Mr. Turkey.”

In the illuminated hallway he gave his friend a scrutiny and cast him an appreciative smile.

         “You look different. I think this is the first time I see you without all that hair hanging into your face. –  
“So this is what you look like”, he teased.

         “Ya wanna be an ass all evenin’, jus’ lemme know ‘n’ I’m outta here.” 

Rick gave his shoulder a friendly nudge.

         “Sorry.” Apparently Daryl was too nervous for teasing remarks. “You look … _good_ , honestly. And my mom’s gonna like the flowers.”

The hesitation before Rick had said ‘good’ hadn’t gone unnoticed and made Daryl even more nervous. What Rick had probably meant to say was ‘okay’, at best.  
It wouldn’t have helped his nervousness to know that in fact Rick had thought ‘gorgeous’. 

The younger boy was just about to lead his friend to the living room to meet his parents, when his eyes came to rest on Daryl’s shoes.

         “Did you come through the woods?” he asked, trying to keep a neutral inflection.

         “Yeah. Only way I know. Why?”

         “It’s dark out.”

         “I noticed that, man.” Daryl frowned. “Had a flashlight and there’s a full moon. What’s the story?” 

Rick shrugged.

         “Looks like you missed one or the other puddle. Or rather – you did _not_ miss them.”

When Daryl looked down, he found his shoes covered in mud of which he had carried quite a lot into the house and left dirty smudges on the floor.  
He grew as white as a sheet.

         “Damn, ‘m really sorry. Yer mom’s gonna be pissed. I didn’t mean ta …”

         “Daryl!” Rick placed his hands soothingly onto the archer’s shoulders. “Don’t get a nervous breakdown over a little dirt in the house. It’s no big deal. I’ll take care of it later. Just take the shoes off.”

         “Ya sure?”

Rick started to grin.

         “We might regret it, if those shoes are ‘made in China’, too, but I guess we gotta take the risk.” 

Daryl rolled his eyes.

          “I hate ya. Have I told ya that yet?” 

Rick’s grin widened while he watched Daryl take off his dirty shoes, but the smile crumbled the next moment when he heard his friend give a kind of desperate sounding sigh.   
Sitting on the floor, Daryl extended his right leg and showed the foot to Rick with a grim expression – there was a hole in his sock and the archer’s big toe peeked though it.

         “I better leave, man. I haven’t even met yer folks yet ‘n’ messed up in a gazillion ways already.” 

         “No, you haven’t”, Rick waved the comment off. “You’re just worrying too much. – Wait.”

He pulled a pair of slippers out of a nearby closet and dropped them next to Daryl.

         “There. Put those on and no one’s gonna notice.”

         “Those yer pa’s?” Daryl asked, again a worried undertone in his voice.

         “Nope, they’re nobody’s. We have several pairs just for guests.”

Daryl looked up to him with wide eyes.   
He had never owned a pair of slippers in his life and wouldn’t dream of wasting money on shoes that could only be worn around the house. And these people had _several pairs_ for their _guests_. 

         “Yeah, right. We got the same back at the trailer, too”, he said sarcastically.

Rick suppressed a grin, but said nothing. 

 

When they came into the family room, Catherine Grimes was busy in the adjoining kitchen. It was separated only by a breakfast counter, which technically made family room and kitchen one and the same room, and so she noticed them enter right away.   
She looked up from the pot she was stirring in and a wide smile spread over her pretty face.

         “Daryl.”

With an insecure nod he walked over to her and almost pushed the flowers into her hands. Rick had to suppress another chuckle – this was clumsy and yet adorable at the same time. 

         “Indian Chrysantemum – thank you”, Cathrine beamed at him. “They are beautiful and pretty much the only flowers still blooming at this time of the year. Miss Peletier has them in her front yard.”

         “Had”, Daryl muttered almost inaudibly, but Rick heard him perfectly well.

He broke out laughing and tried to cover it by faking a cough instantly. 

         “Are you alright, honey?” Catherine cast her son a concerned glance.

         “Fine”, he croaked out, before he decided to quickly change the subject. “Can we help you with anything?” 

         “No, thanks. Why don’t you go sit down. Dinner’s ready soon.”

         “Daryl?”

A deep male voice right behind him had Daryl flinch and whirl around on his heels. He took a step back instantly, when he looked straight into a pair of intense brown eyes that belonged to a lean, yet muscular 6’4’’ man.  
Jim Grimes played tennis and golf and had the self-confidence to stand in front of a judge and jury in court. He was a man who knew what he wanted and was used to getting it, too. In a determined, yet legal way, unlike Will Dixon. Rick’s father was an impressive appearance and somewhat intimidating and Rick noticed how Daryl was shrinking into himself.  

He placed one hand reassuringly on his friend’s shoulder and cast him a smile.

         “Daryl, this is my dad. Dad, this is Daryl.”

         “Nice to meet you, sir”, the teenager said meekly. 

Rick felt every muscle in Daryl’s body tense as though he was getting ready for flight, and cursed under his breath.  
He should have told his parents more about Daryl than he had. All he had mentioned was that he had met the archer in the woods a few months back, that he liked to hunt and showed him interesting places and that they’d become friends.  
Not a word about _Terminus_ or the fact that Daryl was abused by his dad. Jim Grimes was a friendly man and didn’t mean any harm, but he was apparently scaring Daryl more than he was aware of. How could he, without knowing the hunter’s background?   
Rick stepped protectively in between his friend and his father and said:

         “Mom wants us to sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

         “I’m starving, boys.”

A wide smile spread over Jim’s face and he clapped his hands enthusiastically. The slapping sound had Daryl flinch again and Rick reacted instantly and pulled his friend along to the dining room, putting some distance between him and his father.  
Jim watched them almost fly from the kitchen area and shook his head. There was something odd about his son’s new friend.

In the dining room Rick let go of Daryl’s arm and looked him calmly in the eyes.

         “Daryl, no one’s gonna hurt you here.”

The older boy just cast him a _“Don’t know what you’re talking about’_ glance, but he was a bad actor as far as concealing his nervousness was concerned. 

         “I know my dad can be intimidating, but he’s really nice.”

Daryl nodded.

         “Ya don’t look like him at all. Ya got yer momma’s eyes and curls.” 

         “You noticed, huh?” Rick teased and suppressed a smirk when he saw Daryl blush.

          “Ain’t blind, man. 

          “Sit down, sit down, sit down”, Catherine said in a honeyed voice behind them, when she carried a bowl with potatoes in. 

The two boys cast her a curious look.

While she appeared absentminded and sad most days, she was overly enthusiastic and vibrant now, which was just as irritating.   
Rick grew pale. Which pills did she take today and how many?   
For the longest time he had had the impression that Catherine made her own decisions concerning her medication and while she took valium the one day to help with her insomnia and panic attacks, she apparently took stimulants other days to keep her going and ready to face days like this.   
It was a weird kind of drug mix that seemed to have clashing effects and Rick had his doubts that any doctor would advise this kind of medication. Was his mom even still seeing a doctor? Was she going to her therapy sessions? How would she get there, being unable to drive herself and his father always gone?   
Rick pressed his lips together.  
The mere fact that he couldn’t answer these questions showed clearly that they were all living their own lives in this family and had stopped taking care of each other. He had been more concerned about Daryl these past months than he had about the well-being of his own mother. This had to change! He would have a talk with his parents. Later. 

Gently he pushed Daryl into a chair and sat down next to him. Catherine placed the bowl onto the table and smiled widely at them, before she turned around to head back to the kitchen. She almost collided with her husband, who just carried a bowl with peas and carrots and a basket with buns in. 

         “Sit down, sit down, sit down”, she fluted again, sounding like a broken record. 

Rick barely dared to meet Daryl’s eyes and if Jim had noticed his wife’s odd behavior, he had opted for playing blind and deaf.   
While Catherine disappeared back into the kitchen, Rick’s father placed his load onto the table and lowered himself onto a chair opposite his son.  
          
         “So, Daryl”, he addressed their guest. “Rick tells me you guys met in the woods while you were hunting?” 

         “Yes, sir”, Daryl answered awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. 

Gosh, dinner table conversation. He wasn’t good with words and talking to strangers was a nightmare to him. He had no idea what was appropriate to say, knew that his way of speaking wasn’t elegant and doubted that anybody would be interested in anything he had to say.   
He didn’t know about politics or art, the latest movies or exhibitions and he had never been to a concert. He had never set foot outside of this state, let alone outside the country. The world out there kept turning without Daryl Dixon and he had no interesting stories about foreign places and cultures to share, hadn’t read any important and meaningful books, didn’t know a thing about fashion, sports or celebrities.  
These people here were all highly educated and smart. No matter what he said, he would look a complete fool.  

         “Do you hunt with a gun or a rifle?” Jim Grimes asked and derailed Daryl’s train of thought.

He was concentrating so hard on finding the right words and coming up with a decent answer, that he never noticed Rick’s frown.  
Jim Grimes wasn’t in the least interested in hunting and no doubt this conversation was no less than an interrogation. When he had heard about his son’s friend being a hunter, alarm bells had gone off in the back of his mind. Rick was hanging out with a teenager who carried guns! For someone like Jim Grimes, who strongly objected to the gun control laws of this country, this was totally inacceptable.   
Rick gritted his teeth.  
Obviously his father had reservations against Daryl even before his friend had set foot into this house. 

         “Neither”, Daryl answered in that moment. “I got a crossbow.”

That answer took Jim off guard.

         “A _crossbow_?” 

         “Yeah, ‘s silent ‘n’ I can reuse the bolts or make ma own. ‘s cheaper.”

The man lifted one eyebrow, clearly interested now.

         “Would you say hunting with a crossbow takes more skill than with a gun?”

         “Wouldn’t know. Ain’t never had a gun ‘n’ never tried none, so I don’t know the difference. But I like the quiet in ‘em woods, so I prefer a silent weapon.” 

         “So hunting is your hobby?” Jim probed further.

For a second Rick considered stopping this conversation, but just when he opened his mouth to cut in, Daryl beat him to it.

         “Nah. Hobby ain’t the right word. Would mean I‘s doin’ this for the fun of it, but I ain’t killin’ no animals ‘cause I like it. Ma pa ‘n’ me need ta eat, ‘s all.” 

For the first time in his life Jim Grimes was speechless.   
Secretly he had expected a naïve teenager, who would brag about owning a _cool_ weapon. He’d been waiting for a speech about how thrilling it was to have the power to take a life and feel like James Bond with the licence to kill. He had braced himself for the conversation he would have had with Rick in that case, wondering how he was going to explain to his son that his new friend was inappropriate company and that he was not allowed to see him again.  
Daryl’s answer just now had changed everything. There weren’t many people able to impress Jim Grimes, save perhaps for the Dalai Lama and Nelson Mandela, but Daryl whatever-his-last-name-was had just been added to this exclusive circle. 

         “I see”, Jim just said in the end. “Very interesting, Daryl. Maybe you can bring your crossbow one of these days and give us a little demonstration? I’ve never even seen a weapon like that.”

         “Sure.” 

Daryl’s heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that there was one thing he knew more about than these people?   
He looked into Jim’s eyes and saw interest and appreciation in them, not the arrogance or rejection people usually met him with. 

         “You said you were living with your father?”

         “Uh-huh.”

Rick tensed up. This conversation was about to enter a minefield. 

         “Dad”, he cut in, “could you stop the inquisition? You’re not at court.”

         “Well, excuse me, but I’m interested what kind of person would be able to make my teenage son abandon the TV and Playstation and rather spend his days out in the woods.”   
He smiled at the two teenage boys and both of them relaxed imperceptibly. 

         “What does your father do for a living?”

Damn. Rick noticed Daryl freeze and could almost hear the little wheels in his friend’s head turn. There just wasn’t any way to sugarcoat Will Dixon’s occupation, which was lounging on the sofa, drinking, smoking and beating up his son. 

Catherine returning to the dining room in that moment, balancing the turkey on a large platter, saved Daryl the answer and had both boys sigh in relief. Rick jumped to his feet to help his mom with the heavy bird and together they placed the festive meal onto the table.   
Daryl swallowed in order not to start drooling right there and then. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day yet and couldn’t wait to dig in. This was for sure the most beautifully set table he had ever seen and this meal beat even his wildest dreams. 

         “Thanks for the invitation”, he said unexpectedly as soon as Catherine and Rick had taken their seats.  
“Ain’t no one ever invited me ta nothin’ ‘n’ this is great. So, thanks y’all. ‘n’ thanks ta Rick for bein’ ma friend.”   
He cast a side glance to the other boy.  
         “Ain’t never had no friend, either, so … ‘s special ta have ya.” 

He fell quiet and looked around, uncomfortably squirming on his chair when he was met by wide eyes and complete silence. There were even tears in Cathy’s eyes.

         “Sorry”, he muttered shyly, “I say somethin’ wrong? Thought at Thanksgivin’ ya ‘s supposed ta say what yer thankful for.”

         “And you are right!” Jim exclaimed the next moment, so loud in the previous stillness that Daryl jumped. “We never did that, but this should really become tradition.”

_ Tradition.  _ For a second Rick couldn’t help thinking of Shane, who should have been here now, but hadn’t even mailed or texted him in weeks. The boy’s blue eyes came to rest on Daryl’s face and instantly his heart seemed to swell two sizes. Screw Shane. Who needed him anyway?  
He leaned in and nudged Daryl’s shoulder and was happy to see his friend relax and cast him a smile.   
_ This  _ was what he wanted to be tradition from now on. 

         “Oh”, Catherine said in that moment, while she let her eyes wander over the table. “This isn’t right.”  
Her eyes were a little glassy.  
         “We’re missing a place setting.” 

Rick felt all color drain from his face.

         “Mom, no … Please.”

         “Catherine”, Jim cut in sternly. “We talked about this.”

         “Who set the table?” the woman asked determinedly, while she stood. “We are missing Jeff’s place setting.”

She turned around to head to a sideboard and get a plate and cutlery, while Daryl turned to Rick with a questioning look.

         “Oh, ya didn’t tell me yer brother was comin’ ta visit, too.”

         “He’s not”, Rick croaked out. 

         “Of course, he will, honey”, Cathy said happily, while she started setting the table. 

         “Mom, stop it!” 

         “He’s just running a little late. Maybe we should …”

         “Catherine”, Jim just started with a sigh, when Rick jumped to his feet and slammed his palms onto the tabletop suddenly.

         “Cut it out already!” he yelled at his mother and had everybody around him flinch. “He is not running late, mom, and you know it! Jeff is _dead_! When are you gonna accept that?”

         “Rick!” Jim stood, too, and cast his son a warning look.

         “No! She keeps doing that, dad. She’s washing and ironing his clothes, sets the table for him and we even got a fully furnished room in this house stuffed with Jeff’s things as though he was living up there, but he will never, _never_ set foot into this house! How much longer is everything gonna revolve around him?” 

The plate slipped from Catherine’s hands and smashed into several pieces when it hit the floor.

         “How dare you?” she croaked out, tears pooling in her eyes. “He is your brother.”

         “ _Was_!” Rick shot back. “I can’t take this anymore, mom. It’s been over a year and still …”

         “Rick”, Jim said calmly. “Enough.” 

         “That’s right, dad. Enough!”

Cathy dropped the cutlery, too, and ran from the room, while Jim Grimes sighed again. 

         “Excuse me, boys”, he said tiredly. “I’m gonna talk to her. Why don’t you start before dinner gets cold.”

Without waiting for an answer he followed his wife and left two speechless teenagers behind.   
Rick breathed in deep several times to compose himself, before he dropped heavily back into his chair, not daring to meet Daryl’s eyes.

         “Ya said yer brother was livin’ in Trenton”, Daryl said darkly.

         “No. I said he _stayed_ in Trenton and had his own place there. And that wasn’t a lie.” He swallowed thickly. “712 Woodbury Lane.”

         “What’s that?”

         “ _Hilltop_ Cemetery. – Can you believe it? We left one Hilltop behind only to move to another!” 

         “Ya shoulda told me.” 

         “Yeah? Like you told me about Merle?” Rick replied defensively.

         “That’s different, man. Merle’s in jail, not dead. That ain’t the kind a’ information ya wanna give ta people when ya just met ‘em.” 

         “Same as your family being a mess and falling apart because your brother died.” 

Again it was silent for a while, then Daryl asked cautiously:

         “What happened?”

Rick shook his head.

         “Not now, Daryl. Don’t wanna talk about it. I can’t.”

         “Maybe it’d help.”

With a derisive snort Rick jumped to his feet once more and started pacing the room.

         “That’s what I’ve heard a gazillion times. I was in therapy to _talk_. And everybody from friends over distant relatives to teachers and neighbors – they all wanted to _talk._ But you know what? I just wanted to forget! To put it behind me. To move on. That’s why we came here – to start over, try to heal. But my mom isn’t giving us a chance! She brought all of Jeff’s stuff along and built him a shrine. Everything is still revolving around him, as though he was still around. He is haunting us, like a presence we can never shed.”

Daryl frowned.

         “Why would ya want that? Didn’t ya like him?”

         “I loved him. He was my big brother.”

         “Sorry, man, then I ain’t gettin’ it.”

Rick nodded sadly.

         “I know. Don’t expect you to, but … like I said – I can’t talk about it right now.”

In the stillness that followed they heard Catherine’s sobs from the study and Jim’s calm voice talking to her, his words intelligible though over the distance.   

         “I best leave”, Daryl said unexpectedly while he stood. “Ya probably got things ta sort out with yer mom ‘n’ pa.”

Rick pressed his lips together and balled his hands to fists in helpless rage.   
He had been looking forward to this day so much. Had wanted it to be special for both him and Daryl, especially Daryl. And now it was thoroughly ruined as so many holidays before.   
There was no sense in trying to save what was already lost, so he nodded.

         “I’m sorry, Daryl. This was probably the shittiest Thanksgiving ever, huh?”

         “Nah.” The older boy took a step closer to his friend. “in fact ’twas the best. First one I actually had a reason ta be thankful for somethin’.” 

He pulled Rick into a hug and held him for a moment. 

         “Ain’t good with words”, he whispered to him, “but if ya need someone ta listen – I can do that. Ya know where ta find me.” 

Rick returned the hug and nodded wordlessly. The next moment Daryl let go of him and with a faint smile turned around on his heels to head to the front door. It fell shut behind him and Rick was left behind with his anger, frustration, sadness and an untouched Thanksgiving dinner that had started to grow cold.   
 


	8. Chapter 8

      “Just so you know”, Rick shouted when he stormed into his father’s study, “Daryl just left. This was important to me, mom. _He_ is important to me! And all I wanted was one day, one fucking day with no more than a normal dinner, but you had to ruin it. Again.”

        “Watch your mouth, young man!” Jim shouted back and looked at his son sternly. 

Despite his words, there was compassion in his eyes. He did understand his son’s anger and frustration, because he felt no different, but the boy was still talking to his mother. And Catherine was a victim of her own emotions and twisted mind, so she couldn’t be blamed.   
New sobs shook the woman’s body.

        “I’m so sorry, honey. I …”

        “Yeah, me too”, Rick cut in before he turned around and slammed the door of the study shut behind himself.

He couldn’t stand his mother right now. Her crying and whining and apologies and promises for things to get better. They never would, because she wasn’t even trying. She would hold on to the past, would have her days revolve around someone who was long gone, while she forgot about the living. 

With heavy steps Rick headed to the stairs in order to go to his room. He wasn’t hungry anymore and there was nothing and no one down here able to help his current mood.   
He wished Daryl had stayed. Rick still didn’t feel like talking, but the archer’s mere presence was always able to make him feel better and brighten his day. A fact he didn’t even try to deny to himself anymore.   
Just when he was wondering if Daryl might have gone to the cave and whether or not it was a good idea to follow him there in the middle of the night, he stopped dead in his tracks.   
His eyes had flicked to the front door while he was thinking about leaving and got caught on a pair of very muddy shoes still sitting in the hallway. 

Rick’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. 

        “The hell … “ he muttered, while he hurried to the door and pulled it open. 

He peeked outside and by the light of the full moon noticed the archer sitting on the porch swing.   
A smile spread over Rick’s face.

        “Forgot ma shoes”, Daryl commented matter-of-factly and wiggled his feet that still stuck in the slippers.

The younger boy cocked his head and looked at him calmly.

        “Did you plan to sit here all night till one of us noticed?”

        “Nah, but I wanted ta give ya folks some time ta sort things out. So, did ya?”

The amusement faded from Rick’s face.

        “Like I said – don’t feel like talking right now. Besides, there’s nothing we haven’t said to my mom hundreds of times already. I’m growing tired of it.”

        “So’s she probably. Told ya before, Rick – ya can’t blame someone for bein’ sad.”

        “Think my dad and I we weren’t sad, too? But she’s making being depressed an attitude, as though it _had_ to be this way, as though she didn’t deserve happiness anymore, because she failed to save my brother.”

Slowly Daryl got up and approached his friend. Standing in front of him he looked him deep in the eyes and then said softly:

        “Ya know, Merle was our age when ma momma died. I only got one memory of her ‘n’ there she’s cryin’. ‘twas shortly before she died. I just keep thinkin’ that maybe Merle ‘n’ I … we shoulda done somethin’. If we’d made her happy again, maybe she’d still be around.” 

        “That’s different, Daryl. I think your mom’s problem wasn’t everyone failing to make her happy, but someone making her extremely sad. And that someone made her life miserable by being _there,_ not by being gone.”  
He sighed.  
        “I can’t bring Jeff back, even if I wanted to. She needs to finally let go, but she won’t.” 

Daryl looked at him so intensely that he felt as though those narrow blue eyes were able to reach down all the way to his soul. It felt both intimate and irritating.

        “Ma feet ‘s freezin’ in ‘em slippers, man. Can I get ma shoes now?”

The change of subject confused Rick for a moment and he shook his head as though he was able to clear his mind that way while he stepped aside.

        “Sure, go ahead.” 

He watched quietly while Daryl took the slippers off and returned them to the closet, before he reached for his shoes.

        “Can you stay?” Rick asked suddenly. “Please?” 

The older boy straightened up and looked at his friend calmly. Then he gave a curt nod and waited. The ball was in Rick’s court.   
Running a hand through his curls with one hand, Rick pushed the front door shut behind him with the other and then gestured in the direction of the stairs. 

        “Let’s go to my room. Okay?” 

        “Sure.”

With a shrug Daryl followed him upstairs, all the while watching him thoughtfully from behind.

_ “I can’t bring Jeff back,  _ even if I wanted to _… “_

 

*******  
        

The room was exactly the way Daryl had pictured it. He had seen enough TV shows that included typical American teenagers to know what their rooms were supposed to look like.   
There was a queen size bed with a color-changing LED light in the frame, a comfortable looking couch with a glass coffee table in front of it, facing a large TV flatscreen, a desk with a laptop, a wall closet with probably loads of expensive, neatly ironed clothes and several framed photos along with some books on a shelf.   
Surprisingly enough there were no posters of stars or pennants of sports teams and not one item that would show which school Rick was attending. Apparently there was no one in the world of celebs Rick admired and he didn’t feel like he belonged here yet.   
His older brother had died and his parents were either not at home or wrapped up in their own problems. There was no one who showed the way, no one to look up to.  
        Daryl cast his friend a compassionate glance. Until now he had figured no one on this planet could be as lonely as he was, but he may have been wrong.  

Rick slumped onto the sofa and rested his head against the backrest.   
He didn’t give Daryl the grand tour of his room to point out all the stuff and things he owned. All he had wanted was for his friend to be here – no more, no less. He would gladly have traded it all in for some peace of mind. 

        “’s nice”, Daryl said, while he took a look around.

        “Uh-huh”, Rick just grumbled. 

        “’s this Jeff?”

Daryl stood in front of one of the photos and looked into the brown eyes of a handsome boy, who had his arm wrapped around Rick’s shoulders. From the looks of it the picture was a few years old and taken in happier times, for they were both grinning from ear to ear. 

        “No”, the younger boy said with a weary inflection. “That’s my best old ex-friend Shane.” 

His inflection was bitter and Daryl decided to leave this uncommented. Shane was obviously a very sore spot and a topic better left untouched. 

        “Ya got no pic of yer brother?” he asked cautiously after a moment of hesitation.

Rick shook his head. 

        “That was part of the plan. Move away from the old  house, the old neighborhood, leave it all behind and start over without Jeff. That was what my mom’s therapist recommended. Strange person with a weird name … Dr. Bedelia whatsherface. Dunno. And according to her it was best to make a 100% cut – no pictures, nothing that still reminded us of him and …”

        “She nuts?” Daryl said flatly. “I ain’t no doctor ‘n’ know shit about these things, but yer mom just lost a kid. ‘n the plan ta make her feel better was ta take it _all_ away from her? Not just yer brother, but all pictures ‘n’ a place she could go to ta mourn? C’mom, man, don’t ya know graveyards ain’t for the dead? They was built for the livin’, so mournin’ people got a place ta go to, feel close ta the person they lost, talk to ‘em … that kinda stuff. ‘s what they need ‘em pictures for, too. And yer surprised yer mom ain’t doin’ any better?”

        “Pff, she didn’t stick to the plan and got a whole room full of his stuff.”

        “Ain’t the same as a grave ‘n’ seein’ his face. I think instead a’ movin’ ya shoulda fired that therapist. Woulda been cheaper, too.” 

Rick couldn’t help smiling.

        “Very pragmatic.” 

        “Watch what ya callin’ me, dude.”

        “No”, Rick suppressed a chuckle, “it means your idea was solution-orientated, practical, without much fuss, you know.”

        “Huh. Ya’ll just thinkin’ too much ‘stead a’ doin’ what yer heart tells ya to. Ain’t that difficult really and ya don’t need no stupid therapists.” 

The younger boy looked at him gently and felt an immense warmth spread through his body all of a sudden, making him feel comfortable and at ease.

        “Wish you’d been there when it happened”, he said openly. “Those TicTacs the other day made her happier than countless sessions with doctor whatsherface.”  
        _“And you make me happy, too”,_ he added mentally. 

Daryl met his look with a gentle air.

        “’m here now. If there’s anythin’ I can do, just lemme know.” 

Rick lowered his eyes and nodded wordlessly. Before he could reply, the growling of Daryl’s stomach disturbed the silence and brought a guilty air to Rick’s face.

        “Damn, I’m sorry. Here we invited you to dinner and then let you starve.”  
He got up.  
        “C’mon. Meet Mr. Turkey.”

 

They didn’t even bother heating the meal up before they dug in. Or rather Daryl dug in and was wolfing the food down as though any second someone might come in and take it all away. Rick nibbled on a bun with little appetite and watched his friend with a knot in his stomach.  
Surely his upbringing wasn’t the only reason for Daryl’s lack of table manners. The Dixons had probably been like a pack of wolves rather than a family, with the alpha male eating first and the youngest cup having to survive on what was left. Eating quickly and as much as only possible was essential, because there was no telling when the next meal would be available.   
Rick couldn’t remember a single day he had left the house without a proper breakfast and a lunchbox in his school bag. Not even after Jeffrey’s death. And dinner was on the table at 7 p.m. sharp, as though Catherine was setting an alarm clock to remind her. And maybe she did.   
Despite her state of mind she had made sure this family was well fed. Something Daryl obviously could only dream of. 

        “This is great”, he just muttered with his mouth still full.   
After washing the food down with a large swig of Coke, he added:  
        “Yer mom’s a terrific cook.”

        “My dad helped”, Rick said with a tiny smile. “He used to love cooking. Wonder why he stopped doing it. He’s good.” 

        “Don’t matter who made this – ‘s the best I ever had. Thanks.” 

He used his fingers to pick a piece of meat off his plate and stuff it in his mouth, while gravy ran down the side of his hand and arm. When Daryl started to lick off his fingers, a wide grin spread over Rick’s face. He wondered what his parents would have said on seeing this show. 

        “Ain’t hungry?” 

Daryl’s words derailed his train of thought, while the older boy pointed at the barely touched bun in Rick’s hand.   
A curl fell into his forehead when Rick shook his head, but he didn’t even notice. 

        “Did you really forget your shoes?” he asked softly.

Daryl stopped chewing and cast him a meaningful glance without saying a word. He didn’t have to. They communicated well without words by now.   
The ghost of a smile appeared on Rick’s face for just a second and then was gone again.   
An alibi, that’s what the forgotten shoes were. A reason for Daryl to stick around and wait, to be there just in case Rick needed someone to talk to after all.

        “Tricky”, he muttered, not without appreciation. “You want me to talk about Jeff, huh?”

        “Nah. ‘m here ta listen if _you_ wanna talk ‘bout him. Ain’t forcin’ ya to ‘n’ don’t expect nothin’. I ain’t yer therapist, ‘m yer friend, Rick.”

        “Yes, you are”, Rick whispered almost inaudibly before pulling in a deep breath and letting it out with a puff.  
        “It’s not gonna be a funny story”, he warned.

        “Uh-huh. If I just wanted entertainment, I’d stay home and watch TV.”

Rick chuckled softly when he recognized his earlier words.

        “To watch some of those zombie movies?”

        “Pfff, I’d rather shoot maself in the foot.”

He wiped the sleeve of his shirt over his mouth and then leaned back in his chair to wordlessly indicate that he was ready to hear Rick’s story.   
The other boy lowered his eyes and stared at his hands that had started to nervously fumble with the hem of the tablecloth. A second passed in silence, then another one and another one, yet Rick didn’t say a word.  
Daryl stretched his legs and crossed the arms before his chest.

        “Once upon a time …” he prompted gently and was glad to see a smile tug at the corners of Rick’s mouth. 

        “Once upon a time”, Rick picked up the cue, “there was a little boy named Jeffrey, who was very sick.”  
He swallowed thickly and then continued without meeting Daryl’s eyes.

        “He was born with a genetic defect called adrenoleukodystrophy, short ALD. Don’t wanna bore you with the details, but it usually starts when the patients are still very young and it affects their brains. There is no cure, just medication to help with the symptoms, but it can’t be stopped. Bit by bit these people lose the ability to speak, see, hear or understand what you’re telling them. Then they can’t move anymore, have seizures, become demented …”

Tears were pooling in his eyes and he had to take a couple of more deep breaths. 

        “Jeff was five when it started. I was born a year later.”  
He pressed his lips together for a moment, before he croaked out:  
        “I wonder sometimes, if getting the diagnosis that their beloved firstborn was gonna die had my parents decide to have me at all. As a substitute, you know. To not end up as a childless couple one day. But … in all of this they sort of forgot that I was there.”

        “Ain’t true, man”, Daryl cut in gently. “They love ya.”

        “I know. But they adored Jeffrey. He was their one and only and when he got sick, their world fell apart. And the worse it got, the more they focused on him. Especially my mom. She was around him day and night and insisted on taking care of him herself. Nobody else was ever good enough. – I think she’s blaming herself for what happened.”

Daryl leaned forward with a frown and the movement prompted Rick to look up after all. 

        “Ya said it was a genetic disease. How could that be her fault? Shit like that happens.”

        “True, but it’s linked to the X chromosome, means it’s passed on from mother to son.”

        “Still ain’t her fault. Nothin’ she did deliberately or coulda prevented.” 

Rick sighed.

        “If I had a buck for each time someone told her that, the two of us could spend the summer in Europe, too”, he commented dryly.

        “Yeah? So you’d take _me_ along on a trip ta Europe?” 

        “Absolutely.”   
The change of subject made Rick’s heart lighter again and he knew this was exactly what Daryl had intended.  
        “But I’m afraid you’d have to leave your crossbow. They’re touchy at the airports when it comes to bringing lethal weapons.” 

        “Then forget about Europe. Ain’t goin’ nowhere, if I can’t bring ma baby”, Daryl said determinedly and for a moment Rick wondered if he was serious.  
“Pity. Heard they was havin’ red squirrels in Europe. Wonder if they taste the same.”

Despite himself Rick broke out laughing.   
         
        “I don’t believe this. A trip to fucking Europe and you’re only interested in the _squirrels_ there?” 

        “Guy’s gotta have his priorities straight”, Daryl teased. 

For a moment they smiled at each other, then the amusement slowly faded as their previous topic caught up to them. 

        “So he died a year ago?” the older boy asked cautiously.

        “One and a half. Spring of last year. – It pulled the rug out from under my mom’s feet. Jeff … Jeff was the center of her world. She was entirely focused on him and all of a sudden …”

        “She felt useless.”

        “What?” 

Daryl shrugged. 

        “How could she not? If she took care a’ yer bro 24/7 ‘n’ all of a sudden he ‘s gone, so was her life purpose.”

Rick’s expression darkened.

        “That’s what I mean. She is still a mother and a wife, but my dad and me – we don’t matter.”

        “Nah, ‘course ya do, but ya can both take care a’ yerselves. Ya don’t need her. Not like Jeff did. She feels … not needed, redundant, meaningless. And instead a’ givin’ her a new purpose, ya took her to a place where she’s isolated, knows no one, got nothin’ ta do – and ya left her alone there. No wonder she’s focusin’ on herself ‘n’ that shrine up there. What else she gotta do?” 

Rick’s mouth gaped open and he stared at Daryl in total awe. Months of therapy and a fortune for doctors wasted, because they didn’t help his mom for one single day. And here his friend had a totally different point of view on things and may have analyzed the problem instinctively. 

        “So what you’re saying is that we did it all wrong.”

        “Not all”, Daryl said. “If ya hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t ‘ve met ya.”  
He blushed slightly.  
        “But for yer mom that may ‘ve been a bad idea. How’s yer dad dealin’ with all a’ this?”

Rick shrugged with a sad air on his face.

        “He gave up years ago. At first, I think, he was trying to help, do the balancing act between taking care of Jeff and keeping this family together. But my mom drifted away from him and me until Jeff was all that mattered. I guess he had to feel needed, too, and found a substitute in his work. And I … I was lost somewhere in between.”

His voice was thick with emotions all of a sudden and Daryl looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then he slowly rose and came to stand next to Rick’s chair.   
The younger boy’s head was dipped and he was swallowing back tears, so he flinched when all of a sudden a hand ran tenderly over his curls. With watery eyes he looked up and almost drowned in Daryl’s compassionate blue eyes.

        “I know”, the archer said softly. “Ya keep askin’ yerself why ya was never enough.”

The first tear fell as Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl’s middle and buried his face in the soft fabric of his friend’s shirt.

        “In all these years they never really saw me”, he sobbed. “I had everything money can buy, but … but … “

        “Ya wanted _them_ , not some things.”

Rick nodded.

        “If my dad was lonely … why did he rather go to work or golfing instead of spending time with me? I was lonely, too, Daryl.”

        “Yer his son, Rick. Ya don’t break down ‘n’ cry in front a’ yer son ‘n’ ya don’t seek yer kid’s company when ya lonely. He didn’t wanna burden ya with his sorrow, needed ya ta still look up ta him, think he was strong.”

He kept running his hand over Rick’s hair.

        “Don’t blame yerself.”

        “For what?”  
         
        “Lovin’ ‘n’ hatin’ Jeff at the same time. Know how it is.”

Rick lifted his face and looked up to meet Daryl’s eyes.

        “How’d you know …”

        “That ya hated yer brother sometimes? Ya said ya couldn’t bring him back, _even if ya wanted to.”_

A guilty air flashed over Rick’s face before he buried it in Daryl’s shirt again, unable to look his friend in the eyes any longer.

        “’s okay, Rick. Ya been through a lot ‘cause a him ‘n’ even though it ain’t his fault, blamin’ him nevertheless … ‘s human. Know how it is ta have feelin’s for yer brother ya can’t explain. Feelin’s ya don’t even wanna feel, but still they’re there.”

        “You hate Merle, too, sometimes?”

        “Nah, I love him sometimes.” 

They stayed like this for a few minutes longer in total silence.  
Daryl standing motionless next to Rick’s chair, running his hand over Rick’s curls, while the other boy had his arms wrapped firmly around his friend’s middle and pressed his face to Daryl’s stomach.  
Eventually the sobs grew fewer and fewer, until Rick’s breathing was calm and even again.   
When he let go, Daryl took a step back and looked at him with a smile.

        “Feelin’ a li’l better?” 

Rick just nodded and wiped his hands over his tear-stained face. A red handkerchief that was held out to him the next moment had him chuckle despite himself.  
He took it and wiped the last traces of tears away with it. 

        “Pretty hanky. Wish I had one like that”, he teased. 

        “’m gonna get ya one for yer birthday next year. September 14th – I didn’t forget.” 

Still smiling, Rick gestured with the handkerchief he was still holding and said:  
         
        “You’ll get this back after I wash it.”

        “Nah.” Daryl took the piece of cloth out of his friend’s hand and put it back in its accustomed place in the back pocket of his pants.   
        “’s symbolic”, he said softly. “’m takin’ yer tears away.”

That said he went back to his chair and sat down again, while Rick followed his every move with his eyes.   
        _I’m taking your tears away._  
Despite the golden Dixon rule, Daryl had developed a quite poetic side, and Rick was surprised for a moment that he didn’t think this was a sappy or ridiculous thing to say. He liked it. No doubt Shane would have laughed in his face.  

        “You’re still hungry, right?” Rick asked unexpectedly.

        “A li’l. How d’ya know?”

        “Heard it. Your tummy was rumbling.” 

        “Sorry. That stomach is definitely a Dixon.”

Rick laughed out loud about this and pushed the basket with the buns in Daryl’s direction. 

        “Oh”, a male voice in the doorway got their attention. “You’re still here, Daryl? Rick said you left.”

        “Forgot ma shoes.”

Jim’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.

        “You forgot your … what?” 

He cast a glance under the table and looked straight at Daryl’s big toe that peeked through the hole in his sock.   
The boy blushed and pulled his legs back to hide them under the chair, but Jim just started to grin.

        “Golf socks, I like that.”

        “What?”

        “Your socks. Got holes like a golf course – so they’re golf socks. Get it?”

Rick rolled his eyes.

        “Dad, please!” 

Jim shrugged, while he dropped into his chair.  
         
        “Sorry. I just thought this Thanksgiving has been serious enough. At least the food didn’t go to waste. Is Big Bird any good?”

        “Dad!”

        “Alright already”, Jim raised his hands defensively, while Daryl suppressed a smirk. 

He actually thought this was funny. 

        “Food’s great. Thanks again, sir.”

        “Daryl”, Jim said, while reaching for a bun. “Stop calling me ‘sir’, please. This is not West Point.”

Rick sighed inwardly.   
He knew his dad meant well, but his inflection had a tendency to sound harsher than he intended. People who knew him ignored this, knowing he wasn’t really chiding although it appeared that way. But Daryl looked intimidated again, while he nodded silently.   
Jim Grimes didn’t even notice. He put a slice of turkey and some sweet potatoes on his plate and then sighed all of a sudden.

        “I’m sorry about what happened”, he said, sounding tired now. 

        “I didn’t know”, Daryl tried to explain himself, but Jim waved the comment off.

        “It’s not on you, Daryl. Rick should have told you and …”

        “So it’s _my_ fault?” Rick snapped, but the man apparently was in no mood for arguments.

        “It’s no one’s fault. Just a fucked up situation.”

When he was met by wide eyes and total silence he realized what he had just said and couldn’t help grinning.  
         
        “F-word. Sue me.” His grin widened. “I know a good lawyer.” 

The joke fell flat again and Jim rubbed his hands wearily over his face.

        “I best go to bed”, he said. “Your mom’s asleep now and … we’re gonna talk about it tomorrow. Okay? Not tonight.”  
He looked straight at Daryl.  
        “How did you get here?”

        “Walked.”

        “Well, it’s dark and it’s late – can I drive you home?” 

All color seemed to drop off Daryl’s face.

        “No. I mean, thanks, ‘m gonna be okay. It ain’t far ‘n’ … ‘s unlikely for anyone ta kidnap me or somethin’.”  
         
        “You’d be surprised”, Jim said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, you’re welcome to stay the night, although … we don’t have a guest room, I’m afraid. Catherine had her own plans with that extra room.”  
He stood and stretched his back.  
        “Anyway, couch is all yours, if you want it. Good night.”

        “Night, dad.”

        “Night … Mr. Grimes.” 

Jim cast Daryl a glance and then, slightly shaking his head, left the room.   
_ Mr. Grimes _ .   
He had almost looked over his shoulder to see if his father was standing behind him. The folks he worked with called him Jim. The guys he played golf with called him Jim. The neighbors called him Jim, even those he had only met once or twice yet. His damn dentist called him Jim.   
But that boy kept his distance, looked at him with those narrow eyes as though they were playing cat and mouse and it was most obvious that Daryl considered himself to be the mouse in this game.   
He was afraid of him for a reason unknown to Jim. He had tried to be friendly, had made jokes, however bad they’d been, had invited him into his house and still …   
That boy was odd. And for the life of him Jim wasn’t able to say why he liked him nevertheless.

        “Invitation stands”, Rick said, the unspoken question in his eyes.

        “I can’t”, Daryl shook his head. “Gotta get home ta … er, I … I gotta …”

        “Hey”, Rick cocked his head and looked at him gently. “You said your dad had enough food and stuff to be happy for the time being and it’s not the first night you didn’t go home. My dad’s right – it’s late and it’s dark and you don’t need to go.” 

Daryl bit at his thumbnail again and squirmed in his chair.

        “Ya sure? Don’t wanna be no burden.”

        “He wouldn’t have invited you, if he didn’t mean it. I’d like you to stay, too. Please?” 

The archer shrugged and acted as though he couldn’t have cared less. Truth of the matter was though, that his stomach was doing somersaults. Being invited to a dinner had been new and thrilling and a major thing to happen to him, but being invited to stay the night even? Why …?

        “Ya didn’t tell yer dad who I am, right? Where I live”, he said sternly all of a sudden.

        “No, why? It didn’t come up and I had the impression you wanted to keep the lid on it.”

        “Huh. ‘s cause I ain’t proud a’ bein’ a Dixon ‘n’ livin’ in that shithole. – Ya ashamed, too?” he asked straight out.  
         
        “Of you?” Rick was on his feet the next second, with Daryl following suit. “Do you even hear yourself?”

        “I doubt yer dad woulda asked me ta stay, if he knew. He‘s probably gonna count the silver soon as I left.”

Rick just looked at him flabbergasted, before he ran a hand through his hair and said flatly:  
        “Hold up.”

He returned a moment later with a towel and a sheet and pushed them in Daryl’s hands. 

        “Blanket and pillows are on the couch, spare toothbrush’s in the cabinet of the guest bathroom in the hallway. Help yourself with anything you like in the kitchen, if you’re hungry again. Watch TV or use the stereo if you like, but keep it down. You can stay or you can go. Up to you. – Night, Daryl.”

With that he turned around and left his friend standing in the abandoned dining room. He headed upstairs to his own room and after closing the door behind him, leaned against it for a long moment.   
Would it always be like that? Would there always be doubt and fear and mistrust standing between them?  
Despite all the time they had already spent together and all the countless little steps they had taken towards each other, their different backgrounds kept driving them apart. Two steps forward, one step back. Or was it the other way round?   
Was a cave and a lake in the woods the only common ground they could find? The only place they were able to say “I care for _you_ , not where you come from”?  

When Rick came down the next morning, Daryl was gone.   
The blanket and sheet lay neatly folded on the couch and he had tidied up the dining room, done the dishes and placed all the leftovers into the fridge. 

A smile spread over the teenager’s face.

        “Yup, you definitely gonna be a perfect housewife one day, Daryl Dixon”, he said to the empty room.   
 


	9. Chapter 9

With a determined kick Rick shut the front door of his home behind him and, after taking his shoes off and hanging his jacket, rubbed his hands together to warm his cold fingers.

It had been four days since that disastrous Thanksgiving dinner and the temperatures had dropped considerably almost overnight. The winds were harsh these days and brought frost from the north, so everybody prepared for an early winter this year.

Rick couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl and the cave in the woods. No doubt it must have cooled off drastically by now and was anything but a pleasant place to be anymore. It was still better than nothing if an emergency hideout was required, but without heating it was not suitable for them to spend some time together or for Daryl to stay, if he had to.   
But how do you heat a cave? They didn’t have electricity and couldn’t light a fire, so what other option was there? Maybe they could substitute electrical power with a car battery to run a radiator or something, but he had no idea if that would work. He had to ask Daryl. Working in a garage and all, his friend might know about these things. Rick for his part was able to change a light bulb – that about covered his skills as far as electrical devices were concerned.   
He would have loved to ask Daryl, would have loved to ask him lots of things, but after his friend had wordlessly disappeared from the Grimes’ residence the morning after Thanksgiving, he hadn’t seen him again. 

Rick had planned to head out to the cave first chance he had that Friday, but his dad had other plans. Jim had wanted to _talk._ The teenager would have preferred to meet his friend first, but had agreed in the end, because there was urgent need for talk and they should have done that a long time ago.  
His mom had to understand that she needed to move on, that they were going around in circles and came to New Hope for nothing, if she wasn’t even trying to let go. She had to see that she was hurting those who were still alive and that they needed her, too. Catherine wasn’t the only one who had lost someone she loved and they should try to work this out together.  
All this were the things Rick had wanted to talk about, but then the conversation had quickly taken the usual turn.   
It was about Catherine, again, and that Jim and Rick had to be considerate and needed to understand how hard it was for her. That she needed time. The same old song Rick had heard all ninety-nine verses of a gazillion times.   
His parents wouldn’t listen to his concerns. They didn’t care about what was important to _him_ , what _he_ felt, that he was suffering, too. Apparently Jeffrey’s loss and Catherine’s breakdown had wounded all of them to such an extent, that no one was willing or able to deal with the pain of the others on top of their own.   
There was no way they were able to break out of this vicious circle. They were stuck and Rick for his part was sick and tired of it.

He had refused right there and then to continue that conversation. Had started yelling and, although he couldn’t really remember, allegedly used a couple of words that had been highly inappropriate.   
In the end he’d been grounded for the rest of the weekend and sent to his room with a strict ‘no’ to any excursions into the woods. No matter how many times he had tried to explain that he had no way of contacting Daryl and telling him that he couldn’t meet him, his father’s decision had been final.   
There’d been more yelling and slamming doors, while his mom had been crying again, but in the end Rick had spent the weekend in his room, pacing nervously, swearing like a sailor time and again, tossing and turning at night and thinking about Daryl every single second.

He missed him like crazy. Now more than ever he would have needed his friend by his side, would have loved to look into these calm blue eyes, longed to feel Daryl’s arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. He missed seeing his face, hearing his voice and more than once he had considered climbing out of the window or sneaking out the backdoor.   
But in the end he had stayed. The weekend would be over soon – there was no sense in getting into more trouble and probably being grounded till retirement age.   
Eventually he had calmed down and had started to realize that he had in fact acted totally out of line. He had yelled at his mom, had called her names and made accusations until the poor woman had broken out in tears.   
Rick felt bad about that. Blaming her and being downright rude wasn’t helping the matter – it made things worse. He had heard Daryl’s words in the back of his mind:  
          
         _“Ya can’t blame someone for bein’ sad, Rick.”_

And he was right. With that and with lots of other things he’d said, and thus a plan had formed in Rick’s mind that weekend.   
Screw those stupid therapists and all of their dumb advices. From now on he’d listen to what Daryl had to say. There was no one else, Rick was certain of that, who was able to _feel_ people’s moods and what they needed the way Daryl did. That was a gift and Rick wasn’t going to ignore it.  
So right after school the following Monday he had stopped by a store in town and had gotten his mom a present.   
He had to apologize, had to try to make things better for her first, if this family was supposed to have a chance. Even the strongest chain was only as strong as its weakest link. And Catherine was that link. 

 

After his fingers had started to get warm, Rick ran up to his room with the newly purchased item in hand and made a few adjustments, before he headed downstairs to the family room.   
As he expected Catherine was there, sitting in the recliner and sipping a cup of tea. She was drinking more tea these days than the Queen of England, Rick couldn’t help thinking, and sometimes the boy wondered, if that was because his mom really liked that stuff or because she didn’t have anything better to do than preparing tea. 

         “Hey, mom”, he said cautiously. 

There was no way of telling how she would react to his behavior and he braced himself. Mothers were never angry with their children – they were _disappointed_. Which was a smart move actually, since the hurt and _disappointed_ look in their eyes was way harder to bear than a couple of angry words.   
Anger came and went and was soon forgotten, but disappointment ran deep and never dissolved completely. There wouldn’t be any hard feelings, but Catherine would never forget what he had said to her and how he had said it. Rick wished he could take it back and start over. 

         _“_ _ She’s yer momma, man. Ain’t her fault.” _

God, he missed Daryl. If he’d been here, things would have been handled differently. Now all Rick was able to do was damage control and try to do right by his mother. 

Cathy raised her head and looked at him deadpan, waiting without saying a word and Rick’s pulse rate picked up. He almost wished she’d get angry and yell at him. A reaction like that he was able to handle, but this deafening silence and the blank expression were hard to bear.

         “I …”, he swallowed against a lump in his throat, “I’m really sorry about what happened, mom.”

Her eyes rested on him, but there was no indication that his words even registered.

         “Mom? Did you hear what I said?”

         “I heard you”, she said toneless without moving a muscle.

Rick started to grow highly uncomfortable. 

         “Well, I … I think … maybe you …”

         “You were right”, she said unexpectedly. “I know I’ve shut you and your dad out and … I … I need to try harder, need to forget …”

There were tears pooling in her eyes again and she quickly looked down into her cup of tea, so Rick wouldn’t see them. But he had already noticed.

         “You know, mom, I think we did it all wrong.”

Surprised she looked up and cast him a questioning glance.

         “Coming here, leaving the familiar places behind and taking all the pictures of Jeff away … that was bullshit.” 

         “Rick!”

         “But it was!”, he tried to defend his choice of words. “It was hardest on you and we pulled the rug out from under your feet entirely. That was stupid.”

He raised his hand and showed her the gift he had bought for her. It was neatly wrapped in colorful paper, but she made no move to reach for it. She just stared at him, still trying to digest what he had just said.

         “I’ve got something for you”, he said softly before he started unwrapping the present himself. “It may help.”

A moment later he placed a picture frame onto the mantelpiece and instantly heard a choked sob from his mother behind his back. Catherine put the cup down onto the coffee table so hard that the tea spilled, but she didn’t even pay attention while she stood and hurried to her son’s side.   
She stared at the frame with watery eyes and trembling lips – it contained several photos of Jeffrey. Jeff as a baby smiling a toothless smile, as a toddler playing in the sandpit, at the age of ten, when he was already sick, but smiling nevertheless and the last picture of him before he died that spring morning a year ago. 

         “Daryl said it was wrong to take it all away from you and I agree. You had no place left to mourn, no way to still see him but your memories, so it’s no wonder you chose to live in those memories instead of the here and now. There’s nothing for you here, right?”

A tear ran down her cheek as she reached out a shaking hand and let it tenderly run over the face of the boy in the pictures. Then she turned her head and looked into a pair of sad blue eyes.  
The next moment she pulled Rick into a tight embrace and ran her hand tenderly over his curls.

         “Yes, there is something for me here, honey. And I’m sorry I forgot.”

She rocked him gently while he returned the hug, fighting back tears of his own.

         “Thank you”, she whispered into his ear. 

         “It was Daryl’s idea”, Rick replied softly.

         “But it was you, who listened to it and got me this present. So, thank you. Tell Daryl how much this means, will you? First the TicTacs and now this. I hope you know that you’ve got a very special friend there.”

A smile appeared on Rick’s face, while he let go of his mother again and pulled back.

         “Yeah, I know.”

It was starting to grow dark in the room as the light outside faded and Catherine cast another look at the framed pictures on the mantelpiece. A sad smile spread over her face, but the next moment she straightened up determinedly as though new energy flooded through her veins. 

         “Alright, time to get dinner started. What would you like?”

Rick shrugged, while he watched her changed mood with a wide smile. It may not last, might just have been for this moment, but he planned to remember this moment and be grateful for it.   
         _Thanks, Daryl._

         “Whatever, mom”, he replied and chuckled when she replied:

         “Sorry, I’m afraid we’re out of ‘whatever mom’. How about ordering a huge pizza tonight? I feel like pizza. Whadda you say?” 

Rick nodded eagerly, but almost instantly he had to think of Daryl again.   
His friend would have loved pizza, too. Probably. Rick wasn’t even sure Daryl had ever had pizza before. He would ask him next time he saw him. _Next time he saw him …_ Tomorrow! He would go to the cave first thing tomorrow after school, come fire or high water.   
Daryl had to know that he’d been right. That just a couple of pictures had made Catherine happy, at least for a while. Rick would give him a hug and hold him close, indulge in the contact and in looking into those unique eyes. He would make sure Daryl got more supplies, especially now that winter was coming and hunting might be more difficult. And maybe he would save some of that pizza tonight for his friend and bring him a special treat.

It was a surprisingly light mood at dinner that night and after his initial shock about seeing the pictures on the mantelpiece, Jim had agreed that the therapists sucked and they would play it their own way from now on. He had been delighted to see his wife smile again and if a simple thing like a few pictures could do the trick, they had better fire the paid assistance and rather listen to Rick’s friend, who obviously had more empathy than all of them together. 

Rick should have been happy, but when he lay in his bed later that night, he couldn’t help an uneasy, almost sinister feeling deep down inside. Something was wrong. Something had happened or was about to happen. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it had him toss and turn and not find any rest although it was past midnight.   
         He shuddered and pulled the blanket up higher to get warm, but there was a cold inside of him he wasn’t able to shed.   
The heating was off at night, since Rick’s parents strongly believed in the theory that sleeping in heated rooms was unhealthy, and thus the temperature in the boy’s room had dropped over the past hours. Despite usually sleeping with his window open, he reluctantly left his warm and cozy bed and closed it now to keep the freezing night air out. He wondered if there’d be snow soon.   
He snuggled up under the heavy blanket again and wearily closed his eyes, breathing in several times in order to relax and finally get some rest. He wrapped his arms around the extra pillow he had taken to sleep with a couple of weeks ago and buried his face in it. If it hadn’t been downright odd, he would have given that pillow a name and he had long since stopped fooling himself what that name would be.  
He was dreaming of Daryl, even when he was awake. He was thinking about him every minute of the day and he missed him achingly when he wasn’t around him, which was way too often. He could barely refrain from touching the other boy when they were together, and ever since they had slept in each other’s arms that one night in the cave, he snuggled up to that pillow at night, wishing it was Daryl.   
Rick didn’t dare think any further and try to analyze what all this meant, what kind of emotion it was he was feeling for the archer.   
They were friends. Maybe even brothers, in a way. Right? No. He had loved Shane, too. Like a friend, like a brother, but he had never felt this drawn to him, had never dreamed of sleeping in his arms, of touching him, never wondered what it would feel like to kiss him …  
Rick pressed his eyes firmly shut and shook his head, as though he could ban these thoughts that way. Inappropriate! Cut it out, Grimes. Friends. Brothers. Period.   
Right?  
His thoughts became sluggish and slow, his breathing deep and even and Rick felt his limbs grow heavy.   
Right before sleep claimed him, he thought he heard a sound by the window, but he was fast asleep before it really registered. 

 

*******

 

The next morning Rick was woken by his mother’s scream.   
In an instant he sat bolt upright and tried to get oriented, while he wondered what had woken him. The next second his mother’s hysterical voice calling for her husband sounded again and had Rick sigh, while he rolled his eyes.   
She had probably seen a spider or a mouse and his father’s voice from the door of the master bedroom had a grin spread over the boy’s face.  
          
         “What is it, Cath, mouse or spider?” 

The woman’s hysterical reply had the smile drop off Rick’s face and the sinister feeling from last night return.

         “Jim, gimme a hand down here and call an ambulance. Hurry!”

In a flash Rick was out of his bed and hurried down the stairs right after his father. Together they ran into the family room, where they were met by Catherine Grimes, who was as pale as a ghost. 

         “Back porch”, she just said, while she pointed to the door she had opened to let some fresh air in and get the pizza smell out of the house.

Still in his PJs and slippers, Jim headed onto the porch and gasped the next moment. 

         “Dear God, Daryl! – Rick! Gimme a hand!” 

It took Rick only a second to run outside, too, although he was barefoot and the temperatures where in the 40s out there, no more.  
The next moment he felt as though someone had punched him in the guts and he was sure that his heart stopped for a few seconds.   
Wrapped in something they would later identify as the frost protection fleece of Catherine’s flower bed, Daryl lay curled into a fetal position on the porch swing, fading in and out of consciousness. His face was a mess of bruises, cuts and blood and the blood stains on the fleece spoke of more injuries.   
One eye was entirely swollen shut and the one he tried to look at them with, was bloodshot and filled with tears.

         “We need to get him inside and warm him up”, Jim said determinedly. 

He took a step towards the injured teenager and saw Daryl wince and curl into an even tighter ball.

         “I won’t hurt you”, Jim said soothingly, his heart going out to the boy. “I’m just taking you inside, Daryl. Okay?”

Daryl looked at him with a wide, fearful eye and it was hard to tell if he even knew where he was and who the people there with him were. He appeared to be disoriented, was pale and shaking like aspen leaf and no doubt hypothermic. They had to act quickly.   
Rick brushed past his father and knelt down in front of his friend. 

         “Daryl, you need to let my dad help you. Please.”   
There was no reaction.  
         “Do you know who I am?”

Another second passed, then the older boy nodded shakily.  
          
         “Rick”, he croaked out.

         “Right”, Rick said, while he forced a smile. “I’m here and I’m gonna make sure no one’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”

         “Ya didn’t hear me”, Daryl whispered almost inaudibly. 

         “What?” Rick said in total incomprehension. 

A hand appeared from under the fleece and Daryl reached it shakily out to Rick, before he opened it and several pebbles fell onto the wooden floor with a clattering sound.  
Rick grew even paler than he already was when it struck him.  
The sound at his window last night! Daryl had managed to come here all the way through the woods, in the cold and dark, badly beaten and injured and had tried to get his friend’s attention by tossing these pebbles at his window, but …

         “Ya didn’t hear me”, Daryl repeated.

         “Will you bring him inside already?” Catherine’s voice sounded from the door in that moment and Jim gave an affirmative nod.  
          
He went about pushing his arms underneath Daryl’s body to lift him off the swing, setting his jaw determinedly. This boy was muscular and wouldn’t be as light as a feather, but he wasn’t nearly as tall as Jim was and way too thin. He could do this. He had to. 

         “Be careful!” Cathy warned behind him. “Don’t drop him, Jim. Hypothermic people shouldn’t be moved at all, so you need to be really …”

         “He’s not a crate of nitroglycerine, Cath, but I’ll be careful. Just stop making me nervous already.” 

With a grunt he lifted Daryl off the swing and paused just a second, when Daryl whimpered and tensed up. The pressure of Jim’s arms to his back and shoulders apparently caused him pain and the man felt both sympathy and rage at the same time.

         “I’m sorry, Daryl”, Jim said softly, before he headed into the house, gritting his teeth.

He had seen a lot in his job, but _this_?

Rick followed on his heels, his feet as cold as blocks of ice by now, but he didn’t even notice.

         “Gently”, Catherine said again, while Jim lowered the injured boy onto the couch. 

The next second she was there and grabbed the woolen blanket from the backrest to spread it over the shivering bundle. 

         “I’m gonna call an ambulance”, Jim announced, but a hand reaching out from under the blanket and getting hold of his wrist, stopped him.

When he looked at Daryl he saw the boy shake his head fiercely despite the pain that movement most obviously caused.

         “Please”, he said in a raspy voice, “no ambulance.”

Jim’s eyes widened.

         “Daryl, you need a doctor. There is no telling what injuries …”

         “Please.”

Daryl looked pleadingly at Rick and the younger boy instantly remembered the conversation he had with his friend the other day in _Terminus._

_ “If ya tell the authorities ‘n’ they take me away … ‘m gonna lose everything I love.” _

“Dad”, Rick addressed his father with a stern expression on his face, “I’ll explain later, but for now, please, just humor him. He’s got his reasons and …”

“You _knew_ about this?” Jim said sternly, while he turned to his son. “You knew he was being abused and didn’t say a thing?”

“He begged me not to. He …”

“Later!” Catherine cut in. “We can discuss this after Daryl’s been taken care of, not now.”

Rick and Jim’s mouth gaped open as they stared at her for a moment. She showed more determination and vigor than either of them had seen in ages. 

“Rick”, her voice pulled the boy out of his stupor, “I need you to heat some water for tea and get me the thermometer. I wanna take his temperature to see how bad that hypothermia is. And Jim”, she turned to her husband, “I want you to go upstairs to our bedroom and get me all the spare blankets from the closet.”

“But”, he tried to bring the ambulance up again, but was cut short immediately.

“ _Now_ , Jim Grimes. We don’t have all day here. This boy needs to be warmed up instantly, so _move_ , both of you.” 

Jim and Rick almost ran from the room to do as they were told, totally flabbergasted about this changed and energetic Catherine. Despite the serious situation, both of them felt a twinge of happiness to see a spark of the old Catherine return. It was a nice change from the picture of misery she’d been displaying for way too long. 

         “Rick!” she called after her son. “Make sure to put lots of sugar into that tea. Thanks, honey.” 

That said she lowered herself to the edge of the couch and tucked Daryl in as though he was a little boy.   
She suppressed the tears that threatened to flood her eyes, when she looked into the battered face. Cathy had only met this boy twice and still it felt as though she had known him for a long time. Rick hadn’t told her and Jim too much about Daryl, obviously, but his name had been mentioned almost daily for months now. And each time her son had returned home after a day with his friend, his eyes had been bright and shining with happiness.   
Daryl was good for Rick and she had loved to hear stories about white roebucks and huge, old trees, about having fun and laughing and trying to catch some fish only to end up in the lake themselves.   
Rick had found a very special friend in this unkempt, poor, mistreated boy, who despite having enough sorrows of his own, worried about others and cared enough to offer a sympathetic ear and advice – and TicTacs.   
How could anyone hurt a boy like that? What could he possibly have done that was so terrible that someone beat him half to death? What kind of monster was even able to do something like that? 

There was an immense fury in her all of a sudden and she breathed in deep to compose herself. 

         _“Focus, Cathy”,_ she chided herself. _“Stay in the moment.”_

She had lost herself in thoughts and memories and sorrows too often during the past months … years, and it had to stop. Right now Daryl needed help, _her_ help, and she’d be there for him.

Gently she pushed a strand of the long bangs out of the boy’s face and stroked his cheek lightly. His skin was pale and cool to her touch, but not blue, which was good. He was breathing deep and even, still slightly trembling and when she reached for his wrist and felt his pulse, it was accelerated. All these were good signs that he may be suffering just a mild case of hypothermia. The fleece may have protected him enough to not cool down too drastically.   
She didn’t notice Rick stare in her direction with burning eyes and a frantically beating heart.  
He placed the mug of tea and the thermometer on the coffee table with a loud bang that made her jump. 

         “Gosh, honey, be careful with that.” 

If she noticed his icy glare, she didn’t let it show. Instead she reached for the thermometer and looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. 

         “You know”, she said to no one in particular, “the best way to take the temperature …”

         “Don’t even think about it”, Rick cut in and took the device out of her hand. 

He _knew_ where a thermometer was supposed to go to take the most exact temperature, but his mom had taken quite enough liberties with his friend already, touching his hair and caressing his cheek like that. No way she was gonna get even close to any below waistline parts. What was she thinking? 

He lowered himself to the ground next to Daryl’s head and said gently:

         “Daryl?” The bloodshot eye opened reluctantly. “Buddy, we need to take your temperature, okay?”

         “Ya ain’t gonna stick that thing in ma ass, man”, the older boy muttered and Rick cast his mother a meaningful look.

         “No, just take it in your mouth.”

He actually blushed the next moment. Taken out of context this conversation didn’t sound like they were talking about taking Daryl’s temperature, and the way the injured boy lifted one eyebrow confirmed that he had the same thought.   
Rick chose to ignore the entire scenario and held the thermometer out to his friend, who complied wordlessly.  
Daryl blinked, trying to keep his eye open, but the lid drooped time and again as fatigue got the better of him.

         “Stay awake”, Catherine urged. “You need to drink that tea first and we gotta take a look at your injuries.”

Daryl digged his fingers into the blanket he was covered with and held on for dear life, again fiercely shaking his head.   
Jim returning with a pile of blankets caught both Cathy and Rick’s attention and distracted them for the time being.  
The woman was on her feet in a flash and spread one blanket after the other over her new patient, before she took a peek at the thermometer.

         “Ninety-five. Too low, but only a mild hypothermia. That’s good”, she smiled at Daryl, but he just stared at her, still clutching the blanket. 

         “How do you know these things, Cath?” Jim asked his wife in amazement, while she reached for the mug of tea Rick had placed on the table. 

         “He needs to lift his head a little, so we can get some warm liquid into him”, she said to Rick, before she answered her husband’s question.   
         “I read piles of medical books when Jeff fell ill, don’t you remember? I was hoping so much the doctors were all wrong with their diagnosis, was trying to find a cure, a way out of this … “  
For a moment she trailed off, before she suddenly got a grip again.   
         “I put lots of that stuff to memory and it came in handy a couple of times over the years. Like now.”

She sounded too happy to Rick’s ears. Too happy for a serious situation like this and with a dark side glance, he took the mug out of his mother’s hand.

         “I got this, mom.”

Ignoring her confused frown, Rick gently pushed one arm underneath Daryl’s head and lifted it slightly, while he tried to coax him into drinking some tea. Reluctantly the older boy complied, while his eye wandered nervously from Catherine to Jim and back. 

After the first sip he pulled a face and cast Rick a scowl.

         “Ya wanna poison me? ‘s goddamn awful.” 

Rick didn’t reply. He was staring into the mug with deep concern darkening his azure blue eyes – there was blood. Apparently Daryl was spitting blood and Rick hoped with all his heart that it was just a loose tooth and no internal injuries.

         “Daryl”, he said cautiously, “we need to call a doctor.”

         “Nah! Ya promised.”

         “I know, but there’s blood.” He showed Daryl the contents of the mug. “We need to …”

         “Boys!” Jim Grimes cut in with a stern air, “I want some answers. Now.”

A hand snaked out from under the pile of blankets and got hold of Rick’s wrist.

         “Rick … no”, Daryl pleaded once again and there was panic written all over his face.

The younger boy’s heart ached on seeing so much fear and pain in his friend’s face and he reached out to give Daryl’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

         “Dad, look, I know you don’t approve and you probably don’t understand, but the reason why we can’t call a doctor or the cops or _anyone_ is that Daryl’s even more afraid of where they might take him than the place where this happened.”

He didn’t even realize he was still holding his friend’s hand.

         “Rick, right now _the place where this happened_ and who did this are a secondary concern. Daryl needs a doctor! There is no telling what kind of injuries we are dealing with here and we cannot take the risk. Surely you want what’s best for him?” 

         “I do! But … but …”

         “Daryl”, Jim turned to the injured boy, “be reasonable. I understand your fear, but that’s a thing to worry about another day. Right now …”

         “Nah. Ya _don’t_ understand. Once ya told someone,  ‘s gonna be too late. They ain’t gonna forget ‘n’ soon as they patched me up, they gonna send me away.”  
He scooted deeper into the cushions and tried to hide under the blankets in a childlike manner.  
          “I’d rather die.”

         “Jim!”  Catherine was on her feet in an instance. “Now, there’s got to be another way. You know people. Isn’t there a doctor at the club you can trust? Someone who’d keep their mouth shut?”

         “Do you know what you’re asking? How can I ask anyone to be part in this? Who would want their head on the block for keeping a lid on this, if anything was to happen to that boy?” 

         “I think”, she said sternly, “that quite enough already happened to him. Don’t you think? Maybe it was time someone took a chance to do right by him for a change, Jim Grimes!”

         “And then what, Cath? Have him patched up, so we can send him back to _the place where this happened_ and wait till it happens again?”

She crossed her arms before her chest and looked him challengingly in the eyes.

         “Someone here just said that right now this was a secondary concern. Let me think – who was it? Oh, yes – _you_!”

Jim Grimes pulled a face.   
How was it possible that a successful and respected lawyer like him lost a debate against his own wife? Shouldn’t he be better at this game? Feminine wiles, that had got to be it.   
Catherine placed a hand gently to his chest and said conciliatorily:

         “We just need time, darling. We’ll think about the other problem later, but for now Daryl needs a doctor who’d understand and keep this a secret. We don’t know all the facts yet to make a decision and if it’s that important to Daryl – and Rick – we should respect it.”

The two boys cast each other a relieved glance and with another gentle squeeze, Rick finally let go of his friend’s hand. He thought he saw a whiff of regret on Daryl’s face, but his father’s reply distracted him.

         “Alright, you win. I think I know who to ask and will call him right now.”  
He turned to Daryl.  
         “But you owe me a couple of answers, young man, and as soon as you feel better, I expect to hear them.”

         “Yes, sir”, Daryl muttered almost inaudibly.

With a deep sigh Jim turned around on his heels and headed to his study.   
_ Sir.  _ They were back to square one. 

In the family room Rick got up from where he’d been kneeling next to the couch and gave his mother a hug.

         “Thanks, mom.”

         “Yeah, thanks Mrs. G”, Daryl cut in shyly.

Catherine looked from one teenager to the other and couldn’t help the warm, content feeling that spread through her body. Despite this terrible thing that had happened to Daryl she felt … _happy._  
There was something she could do, something she _knew_ how to do, something that needed to be done – and that was taking care of Daryl. Finally she was needed again, could share her knowledge and had a meaningful job to occupy her time with. Catherine Grimes had a _purpose_ again. And this time she wouldn’t fail.   
She hadn’t been able to save Jeffrey, but she was going to save Daryl, no matter what.  
          
         “I’m gonna make some more tea”, she just said and then headed to the kitchen, her heart lighter than it had been in ages. 


	10. Chapter 10

When the doorbell rang, Jim was almost reluctant to answer it. 

He had called Dr. Greene, an elderly, gentle and wise man, who had his utmost respect. And because of that respect Jim hated what he was getting the man into, but if there was anyone who’d know how to handle this situation, it was Hershel Greene. Jim was well aware of the fact that the man was a veterinarian, but there really wasn’t anyone else he would have trusted enough and a vet’s knowledge should be quite sufficient.   
All Jim really wanted was someone to tell Cathy and the boys: “No way, folks, this boy belongs in a hospital.” No one needed to know that Hershel wasn’t an expert on the field. Hell, neither was Jim and still he was able to tell that Daryl was in terrible condition and needed more than a couple of band-aids.   
And whoever did this to him had to be held accountable. The lawyer in him, the man who loved justice, cringed at the thought that the person responsible would walk free and unpunished after almost beating a 16-year-old boy to death.   
What kind of world were they living in, if he stood by, kept his mouth shut and did _nothing_ on witnessing something like this? 

        “Hershel”, he greeted the white-haired man after he had opened the door. “Thank you for coming over so quickly.”

        “Well”, Hershel replied in his slow and calm way of speaking, “although you didn’t tell me the details, _emergency_ always sounds kind of urgent to me.” 

Jim couldn’t help smiling. He liked that man.  
After he had taken Dr. Greene’s coat and hat and quickly hung them in the hallway closet, he led him to the family room.  
When he had called the doctor about half an hour ago, Jim hadn’t said more than him needing to ask the doctor a favor that included him coming over to the Grimes’ house right away due to a medical emergency. Jim had promised to explain later and he sure had lots of explaining to do, no doubt about it. 

        “Catherine, my dear.”

The woman met him halfway between the doorway and the couch and extended her hands to him as soon as he greeted her.

        “Thank God, you’re here”, she said with relief clearly peppering her voice.

She couldn’t remember his name, but she recognized these kind eyes and his friendly face that had always reminded her of Santa Claus, which was probably due to the impressive white beard.   
He had stopped by their house a few times, that much she knew. It had probably been to see Jim, not her, but he had talked to her, they even had a cup of tea or two together, but the details of these visits were blurry. Whatever he had said to her, whichever advice he had given, it apparently hadn’t been able to help her. It hadn’t even gotten through to her drug-numbed mind. She just prayed to God now that he’d be more successful with Daryl’s treatment.

Dr. Greene gave the woman a scrutiny before commenting with a frown:

        “You don’t look sick to me. In fact, I’ve never seen your cheeks so rosy before”

        “This is not about me”, she replied and took his hand to lead him to the couch. “It’s about him.”

Hershel took one look at Daryl’s battered and blood-smeared face, before he turned to Jim and cast him a long meaningful look.

        “You said you’d explain later. Well, Jim, it sure _is_ later now.”

        “Please, doctor”, Rick addressed the vet, whom he had met once or twice before. “Could you look at Daryl first?” 

The doctor placed a soothing hand on the teenager’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly, while he gave an affirmative nod.

        “You’re right.” 

He lowered himself to the edge of the couch, which prompted Daryl to instantly scoot back as far as he could, although that wasn’t more than an inch or two. 

        “Relax, son”, Hershel said gently, “no one here is gonna hurt you.”   
He looked up to Jim.  
        “What happened?” 

        “We don’t know. Catherine found him like this on the back porch this morning.”

The doctor turned to his patient, who watched him with a suspicious glance.

        “You wanna tell me what happened, son?”

          “Ain’t yer son. Stop callin’ me that.” 

        “Alright, then perhaps you would like to tell me your name?”

        “Who wants ta know?” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Hershel’s lips. If the boy was able to talk back to him like that, his condition wasn’t as critical as he had feared. Hopefully.   
This friendly conversation was to make Daryl feel at ease and come to trust him, let him do his examinations without fear or struggle.  
He didn’t need the answers to these questions. He knew what happened. And he knew who this boy was. 

        “Fair enough”, he said gently, “my name is Doctor Greene.”

        “Green as in Kermit?” 

Despite himself Hershel had to chuckle.

        “No. Although I really like Kermit, I’m afraid my name is spelled with an ‘e’ at the end.”  

It was quiet after that and the doctor looked at Daryl expectantly, waiting for him to keep his side of the bargain. 

 

It had been a few years since he had seen him last, but he recognized the face, although it was bruised and disfigured now. And he would never forget these eyes for as long as he lived. These narrow, deep blue eyes that held an ever present sadness and were able to reach all the way to a person’s soul.  
The first time he had looked into them was roughly ten years ago when he’d come by a shabby little house just down the street from the _Terminus_ trailer park.    
He had been on his way home after seeing to Mr. Eastman’s goat Tabitha and several fire trucks, police cars as well as the coroner’s wagon parked in front of that house, had made him stop. All that was left of the place was a pile of fuming debris and quite a lot of trash that had littered the front and backyard. The house had burned down to the ground – with Mrs. Lorna Dixon still inside.    
Hershel still remembered thin, pale and dirty little five-year-old Daryl standing in front of the remains of what used to be his home, frozen and with a lost and empty look in his eyes. His mother had just died, his brother was in juvi, his father on a bender somewhere and he had been all alone, with nowhere to go, no one to turn to, no one to give some comfort. But he hadn’t even cried. 

 

        “Daryl”, the teenager grumbled in that moment and Hershel cast him another smile.

        “Very well, Daryl, then we best have a look at you now.”

 

Hershel still remembered the _urge_ he had felt back then to take that little boy home with him – to give him something to eat, most certainly a bath, a warm bed to sleep in and a safe place to be until his father came back.   
The hopeless and resigned look in those blue eyes had touched a spot deep inside of him and he wanted to do right by this child, wanted to be _there_ in case Daryl needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on.   
But, of course, no one would allow a single man to take care of a child he didn’t even know, even though he was a respected elderly gentleman with a doctor’s degree. There were laws, rules, regulations – and too many people unable to think with their heart.   
So little Daryl had ended up in a children’s home, in a strange place with strange people, alone and scared and unable to comprehend that his momma was never going to come back. 

When Will Dixon had returned home and found his house burned down, he had been furious.    
The loss of his wife hadn’t fazed him at all, it was just inconvenient. After all, she had been his housekeeper and cook, had kept those two unnerving brats out of his hair and had been a free lay, available at all times. He didn’t mourn her, her loss was just hell of a hassle, as was the loss of the house. On second thought Will had decided back then that he missed the house even more than the stupid bitch who burned it down.    
But what was even worse than losing his place to crash, was the CPS returning Daryl the moment Will had found a deserted old trailer in _Terminus_ to live in. As though having to provide for himself now wasn’t annoying enough, they had to dump that kid onto him. The little pain in the neck, who would wake him or disturb his precious TV time to tell him he was hungry or his tummy hurt or he missed his mom.

Had he simply been bugged by the boy before, Will Dixon started to hate him now.    
But he kept him around nevertheless. Merle had been just as much of a pain and came in handy after all. Will would teach that little maggot to earn the food he claimed and he would make sure Daryl learned his lessons well. 

Despite the trailer being a mess, the CPS people had insisted that it was his duty to take care of his son and they had left with the promise – or was it a threat – to check in on the Dixons on regular terms. But after that, no one had ever shown up again.    
Who in their right mind would set foot into _Terminus,_ if they didn’t have to? And they probably figured they didn’t _have to._ The boy was returned to his father and there were four walls and a roof – case closed. If anyone noticed the scars and bruises on the little guy’s body when he had been in the care of the state, they chose to ignore them. Surely he just fell. He was little. Little boys played rough and got bruises. Right?   
No one ever asked questions. No one ever made sure Daryl was well taken care of. No one ever took the pain and fear away until they had left scars on the boy’s soul that were going to stay for the rest of his life, just like the ones on his skin.  

Although Lorna had never had the strength to stand up to her abusive husband, she had meant some kind of stability, some kind of protection and warmth for the two Dixon boys. With her gone, things had taken a turn for the worst. 

 

Hershel had suspected that Will Dixon beat his sons, but he had no proof. He was no pediatrician and couldn’t accuse a man of abuse due to his gut feeling. Right here, right now, he wished he had. A long time ago. He may have been able to spare both Merle and Daryl a lot.

         
        “Before I start my examination”, the doctor said gently when he noticed Daryl trying to scoot back even further, “let me just ask you a few questions first.”

        “What? Ya wanna know ma shoe size now and ma favorite color?”

        “Maybe next time. For now, why don’t you tell me if you feel nauseous or dizzy or have problems seeing things clearly, huh?”

 

Everybody who lived in New Hope long enough knew Daryl and his brother and Hershel was no exception. Years back they’d been regular _customers_ of his cousin Dale’s grocery store.   
Good old friendly Dale. He had caught Merle stealing several times, but had never pressed charges. Not once. After the third time he had given Merle a lecture on stealing and honest work, the law and right and wrong – only to realize that it had all fallen on deaf ears when the boy had showed up only two days later, relieving him of some apples and a bag of potato chips.   
That day Dale had taken up pursuit to catch the blasted thief and take him to the police station. He’d been angry that the chance he’d given that boy was apparently spurned. Merle needed to learn his lesson, if he was supposed to get a chance in life.  
Dale had followed him to a back alley, where he had witnessed Merle crouch before his six-year-old baby brother, who’d been going through some trash cans in that alley, and had held the apples and potato chips out to him.   
Even years later Dale had talked about the relieved and happy look in Daryl’s eyes when he had seen the food and how he had eagerly eaten his share as though he hadn’t had anything in days. Which may have been a fact.   
From that day on Merle never had to steal food at Dale’s again, because the good-hearted man would let the brothers have all the groceries that had reached their expiring date and couldn’t be sold any longer, although they were still good.   
Dale’s death five years ago was probably harder on the Dixon boys than on anybody else. 

 

        “You may have a concussion, Daryl, and according to your temperature, you are hypothermic. So I need you to stay right here, move as little as possible, keep warm and rest.”

Nervously Daryl’s eyes wandered through the room without focussing on anybody.

        “Can’t jus’ stay here. Ain’t ma home ‘n’ …”

        “Of course, you're gonna stay here”, the three Grimes said in sync, which prompted a smile on Hershel’s and a frown on Daryl’s face.

        “Ya been practicin’ long for this?” he grumbled, but his relief to be allowed to stay was palpable. 

Hershel placed his hand featherly light on the boy’s shoulder and said cautiously:

        “We are not done here yet, Daryl. I’m gonna have to take a look at your injuries.” 

If he could have, the teenager would have crawled right through the backrest.

        “’s nothin’. Don’t bother.” 

        “Daryl”, Jim cut in calmly, “it’s your choice now. Either Dr. Greene is gonna take a look at you or I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

        “Damnit, dad”, Rick cast his father a killer scowl, “why do parents always do that?”

        “Do what?”  
         
        “Leave us the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea! This is blackmail.”

        “No, Rick, this is life! And you’re old enough to understand that it’s no Disneyland. There are shitty situations and tough decisions to be made at times. Right now it’s between a doctor here or at the hospital or risking to die due to untreated injuries. There is no door number four, young man, and I sure as hell won’t allow option number three, so Daryl’s choice is either number one or two. Simple as that!”

Rick had grown as pale as a ghost.   
        _Risking to die due to untreated injuries._  
It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It was just a few bruises and a concussion and Daryl would be back on his feet again soon, right?   
The boy swallowed hard against a lump in his throat.   
How many times had Daryl flinched when he had tried to touch him? How many times had he noticed that his friend seemed to be hurting? And what about the black eye the other day?  
This was not _nothin’_ and it was time they all stopped not to bother.

Slowly he lowered himself to the floor before the couch and looked at Daryl pleadingly.  
         
        “Daryl, please, let Dr. Greene help you. We both know it’s more than _nothing_. And it hurts, doesn’t it?”

For a moment the older boy pressed his cracked lips together so hard that he drew a fresh rivulet of blood. 

        “Always does”, he croaked out. 

Rick pulled a dark blue handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed the blood off Daryl’s lips.

        “New hanky?” 

        “Uh-huh.” Rick stared at the blood stains for a moment before he whispered to Daryl: “Blood, sweat and tears. Dunno about you, but I’d rather just see some ordinary snot in our hankies for a change.”

        “Could think a’ nicer things ta look at”, Daryl grumbled, but for a split second there was the ghost of a smile on his face.   
         
        “Still would be an improvement.” 

They just looked at each other quietly for a moment, silently communicating through looks alone until in the end Daryl nodded almost unnoticeably. 

        “’kay.”   
He cast the doctor a glance.   
“’kay”, he repeated.

Hershel placed his bag on the coffee table and then let his eyes wander over the members of the Grimes family.

        “I think it’s best, if you stepped outside for a moment.”

        “No”, Jim Grimes’ inflection allowed no argument, while he took a step closer to the couch.   
        “Daryl, I need you to understand – you are not our son and a minor. Technically neither Catherine nor I or you have the right to make decisions about your treatment, so what we are doing here right now could cause lots of problems for Dr. Greene and me. By rights we should have called an ambulance …”

        “You called a doctor”, Rick cut in.

        “He’s a veterinarian, Rick! I trust this man and I know he’s gonna do all he can for Daryl, but that doesn’t make him an expert on the field.”  
He turned to Daryl again.  
        “If your condition should, God forbid, take a turn for the worse, there will be lots of questions, to say the least. This could even be judged as failure to render assistance and that’s a penal act. If Hershel and I are taking that risk, I want to know exactly what we are dealing with here, so I’ll be prepared and can react to any possible accusations and questions. Do you understand that?”

Daryl breathed in deep and nodded hesitatingly.   
He really didn’t have a choice, no matter what the man said. All Daryl wanted was to be allowed to stay here for a little while, so he had to agree to everything Jim Grimes wanted or Rick’s father would inform the authorities in the blink of an eye. 

The injured teenager squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself, while he felt someone gently lift the blankets off of him.  
He had never been to the doctor’s, so this entire _examination_ thing felt terribly awkward and unpleasant to him. He hated to have people touch him.  
        _“Except Rick”,_ he couldn’t help thinking.  
And he didn’t want anyone to stare at him, to _see_ what his father had done to him more than once, to _know_ that Daryl was weak, a victim, a pussy just like Merle had always said he was. He allowed this to happen time and again, wasn’t fast enough to run away or strong enough to fight back or smart enough to avoid these situations in the first place.   
The moment they saw it, they’d know what kind of pathetic nobody he was and then they’d send him right back where he belonged.   
Surely Rick wouldn’t want to be friends anymore, would never respect or see him as an equal again. How could he? If he would ever agree to meeting him in the woods again at all, it would be out of pity, no more.   
Merle had tried to teach him to be tough, to stand up for himself, but his brother had never stopped calling him “Darylena” or “li’l girl” or “sissy”. So no matter how hard Daryl had tried to live up to Merle’s expectations, he had failed.   
He probably deserved the beatings he was getting, probably was as worthless as his father said he was. And in a few moments they would all know.

        “Turn around, Daryl”, Hershel said gently, “I’d like to take a look at your back.” 

The teenager started to tremble despite himself, which was misinterpreted as him being cold, but his hypothermia had nothing to do with the shivers.   
The raspy sensation in the back of his throat almost choked him and he desperately tried to swallow back the tears that were pooling in his eyes.

It had grown so quiet in the room that one could have heard a pin drop.   
Four pairs of eyes were staring at the blood stained sweater and it dawned on them what they were about to see.   
Hershel reached for a pair of scissors in his bag and then started to cautiously cut the piece of clothing away from the boy’s skin. The fabric had partially gotten attached to the fresh wounds and on peeling it away, spots that had already been sealed cracked open again and started bleeding anew.  
Daryl suppressed a cry and flinched. 

        “I’m sorry”, the doctor apologize. “Just a little more and then it’s …”

The moment he was done cutting the sweater in half and lifted it off the boy’s back he fell silent, while Catherine suppressed a shriek and the two Grimes men gasped in horror. 

        “Oh, my God”, Jim muttered with a grim expression, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

Daryl’s back was a map of old scars and new cuts and weals, some of them still bleeding, others apparently infected and festering. 

        “What was it?” Hershel asked gravely. “Belt? Rod? A whip?”

        “Belt”, Daryl replied almost inaudibly.

Pressing his lips tightly together the doctor took a closer look at the injured teenager and spotted bruises in the area of Daryl’s ribs and sides, which indicated that he’d been kicked in addition to being beaten. And a couple of old, round scars on his shoulders left little to the imagination – cigarette burns.   
Hershel took his glasses off and rubbed over his stinging eyes.  
This boy had been abused probably all of his life and he may have been able to prevent it, if he hadn’t kept his mouth shut all these years. Will Dixon! It wasn’t like Hershel to wish the plague and cholera on people, but in this case he made an exception. 

        “I need you all to leave the room now”, the doctor said determinedly.   
He cast a look at Jim Grimes.  
        “I’d say you’ve got your answers. We’ll talk when I’m done here.”

Jim nodded grimly and then gestured to his wife and son to follow him outside. Neither complied. For one or the other reason both of them wanted to stay, to help, to not leave Daryl alone, but Hershel’s insisting look had them give in and quietly leave the room.

As soon as they were gone, Hershel reached into his bag to get everything out he needed to disinfect and bandage Daryl’s wounds, while his patient was breathing fitfully as though he was afraid or in pain or trying not to cry.   
The doctor couldn’t help the sad thought that it was probably all of that combined. 

        “It’s gonna sting now”, he warned the boy before he applied iodine on the wounds, but it was him flinching when Daryl hissed and suppressed a cry once again. 

        “I wish you would have asked for help earlier”, Hershel said softly.

        “The ol’ ones healed by ‘emselves without no help. The new ones will, too.”

        “No”, Hershel replied with a sigh, “I meant a long time ago. 

It was deadly quiet for a moment, then Daryl said with a bitter inflection:  
        “I‘s just a li’l kid _a long time ago_. Ya don’t go tellin’ no one yer daddy’s hurtin’ ya when ya li’l. He always said I‘s bad, deserved no better ‘n’ I believed him. Didn’t know it no other way. ‘n’ Mer … ma brother kept promisin’ ta get us out, ta make things better. Said I just hadda wait a li’l while longer. ‘n’ then suddenly ya pushin’ seventeen ‘n’ ya still waitin’ ‘n’ come ta realize that nothin’ will ever change. ’s too late ta ask for help.”   
         
Hershel swallowed hard while he placed a large wound pad over Daryl’s back. This was the first time he was glad to be a veterinarian, because no pad made for a human being would have been large enough to cover this boy’s injuries.   
While he started dressing Daryl’s entire torso, he said cautiously:

        “It’s never too late to ask for help. You came here after all.”

A single tear slid out of the corner of Daryl’s eye and fell silently onto the sofa cushion. He didn’t reply.  
This was nobody’s business. No one had to know. Not even Rick.   
He hadn’t come here last night to ask for help. He had come to see Rick one last time and say good-bye. He couldn’t take it any longer, didn’t see a reason to. Merle had lied – it would never be better. It would go on like this – the fear, the pain, the humiliation, the neverending struggle.   
He had deluded himself that it was just a little while longer and then, when he was officially an adult, he would finally be free. But whether now or next year or ten years from now – he had no money, no proper education, no one to help him, no place to go.   
What he did have was one hell of a reputation, a brother with a record and a shitty background. He would never get out of _Terminus_ and as long as Will Dixon was alive, so was the hell he was stuck in. That was no life worth living, so why bother? 

When he was done, Hershel gently pulled the blankets back on top of the trembling boy and place a hand gently on his shoulder. 

        “I’ll come back in a bit and bring the ultrasound unit from my office to check for internal injuries. As far as I can tell there are no indications for any, but we need to be on the safe side.” 

Again Daryl did not answer. 

        “These people here and I – we’re on your side, Daryl. Try to rest now. I cannot promise you that everything will turn out alright, but I can promise you to do my share so it might.” 

        “Thanks”, the boy croaked out without turning around.   
         
The physician got up and left the room without a further word.   
Behind him on the couch Daryl breathed in deep and didn’t fight the fatigue any longer that had tried to get the better of him for hours. Only seconds later he was fast asleep, his last thought a prayer to whoever might be listening to, please, not let him wake again. 

 

*******

 

The moment Hershel came through the door, he was surrounded by three people looking at him with deep concern darkening their eyes. 

        “How is he?” Catherine asked instantly, simultaneously with Rick’s “Is he gonna be alright?”

Jim was silent.   
The doctor rubbed a hand over his chin and looked from one Grimes to the next. 

        “I have never seen anything like this”, he said, shaking his head about what people were able to do.  
        “I patched him up as good as I could and I see no indications for internal injuries, but I’d like to get my ultrasound to be on the safe side. – He’s resting now.”

        “Can I see him?” Rick asked and his nervous, impatient fidgeting as well as the worry in his eyes left no doubt that there was no stopping him from being with Daryl no matter what Hershel said.

        “Of course. In fact, I’ll have to asked you all to keep vigil for the next like two days until we are certain that his condition isn’t getting even worse.”

        “No problem”, Catherine replied eagerly, which had Rick frown once again.

 

An hour later the doctor had returned with his ultrasound unit and was running the scanner lightly over Daryl’s abdomen.  
He had been reluctant to wake the boy, but the urgency of this examination had him dismiss all second thoughts.   
While Hershel focused on the monitor, looking for internal bleeding or anything else that was not supposed to be there, he repeatedly cast a glance at his patient out of the corner of his eye. And he didn’t like what he saw.  
When he had woken him, Daryl had sighed deeply and had looked at his surroundings with something close to … _disappointment_? Hershel hadn’t given it too much thought at the time. Anyone who was dead tired and was woken after only one hour of sleep, would be anything but pleased. But there was more.   
The boy was entirely unresponsive. He had turned his face away from Hershel as well as Rick and Catherine and had refused to look at anybody ever since they had woken him. He lay entirely still, not moving a muscle, breathing shallow and not paying the least attention to the examination administered, although he had probably never seen an ultrasound before.   
Daryl had shut down and had apparently retracted into a shell, a place where he was safe, where no one could reach him. 

Hershel forced himself to concentrate on the monitor again.   
Maybe he was wrong. He was no psychiatrist, either. Maybe the boy was just tired and wanted to be left alone, so he could go back to sleep. Yes, that was probably it. 

        “Alright”, the doctor announced, while he turned the unit off, “I see nothing out of the ordinary.”

        “Yeah, no wonder”, Daryl grumbled before he turned on his side again with his back to the room.   

Hershel stood slowly and cautiously covered his patient with the blankets.

        “Is there anything you need? Something to eat or drink maybe?” he asked softly, but Daryl only shook his head.

        “Sleep”, was all he muttered in reply, pulling the blankets even higher as though he was trying to hide.

The doctor turned around to Rick and Catherine, who were sitting in the two recliners across the coffee table, watching in breathless silence.

        “Best just let him sleep now”, he advised. “I’ll come back tonight and check on him. Until then he should rest, have some more tea, light meals and move as little as possible.”

Catherine slowly rose, too, and extended her hand.

        “Thank you, doctor. We really appreciate what you’re doing. – Can I offer you some coffee or tea?”

He took her hand in his and patted the back of it with the other.

        “Thanks, my dear, but I think I’m gonna have a talk with Jim now and then I need to go and open my office. I’ll take a raincheck on the offer, if I may.”

        “Of course. Anytime. Let me show you to Jim’s office.” 

She led the physician outside and a moment later Rick was alone with Daryl. 

The younger boy’s heart was beating frantically and his stomach was in tight, painful knots, while he looked silently at the shock of tousled hair that stuck out from the pile of blankets. That was all that was visible of Daryl, but the horrible injuries on his back still stuck painfully clear in Rick’s mind.   
All summer long he had wondered why his friend was reluctant to go for a swim or take his shirt off even on the hottest days. He had always found excuses or had managed for them to somehow end up in the lake with their clothes on – now Rick understood why.  
Rick had known. Deep down inside he had known. Daryl had admitted straight out weeks ago that he was being beaten, but Rick had no idea what that bastard of a father was able to do. And then maybe he had chosen to not think that far. Had figured it was _just_ a black eye or a couple of bruises now and then and if Daryl said it was _nothing_ and that he didn’t want for anyone to get involved, he had best respect that.  
It was so easy to look away, to find excuses for not taking action. Afterwards, when it was too late and another child had been killed by their own parents, there’d be an outcry and people would say _“How is it possible that nobody noticed? Why didn’t anyone do anything?”_ But when it was their turn to look closer and raise their voice, they were going to choose the easy way and not hear anything, not see anything, not say anything. 

Rick had let Daryl down – entirely and completely.   
Hadn’t he told him the door would always be open? That he should come to see him whenever he needed a place to run to? Daryl had – he had come for help last night, but Rick hadn’t heard him. No, even worse – he had _ignored_ the sound at the window and had rather snuggled up in his warm, cozy bed while his friend had been out there in the cold and dark, bleeding, freezing, hurting, all alone and scared.    
        _Ya didn’t hear me._  
Rick hadn’t heard him long before last night. 

The way the older boy had looked away and hadn’t met his eyes or those of anyone else had not gone unnoticed and Rick couldn’t blame him. Daryl had placed his trust in him and at this point he was probably the _only_ person in the world he would trust in at all – and Rick had disappointed him, deserted him, let him down like everybody else in the archer’s life. 

        “Daryl?” he whispered with a quivering voice. 

There was no answer.

        “Daryl?” Rick tried again, a little louder this time, but again his friend didn’t respond or move or show any indication that he was awake. 

The younger boy sighed. Later. Daryl needed to rest, to heal, to gather strength, so he’d be able to face the world although the odds were stacked against him. 

        “I’m sorry, buddy. I am so sorry”, Rick croaked out, before he sank back against the backrest of the recliner and resumed his silent brooding. 

Daryl hadn’t heard him. He had drifted off into a dreamless sleep, merciful oblivion embracing him and taking away all the pain and despair at least for a while. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

In Jim Grimes’ study Hershel gratefully accepted a glass of Scotch, although it was only 9:30 in the morning, and downed it in one go. 

         “Usually”, he said after returning the glass to Jim, “I don’t drink early in the morning. But then usually I don’t see anything like this early in the morning, either.” 

The lawyer placed his own glass on the desk and waved the comment off.

         “No need to explain or apologize. This was my second. – Please, have a seat.” 

They both sank heavily into their chairs and for a moment it was quiet, while both man tried to digest the events of that morning.

         “Well”, the doctor finally picked up again. “As far as I can tell there are no internal injuries and the hypothermia is only minor. If there are no complications of any kind, he should make a full recovery. What he needs is rest, nourishment and his wounds being properly treated. I would like to check on Daryl again tonight and I’d be glad to stop by daily for as long as it’s needed, but …”

         “Yeah, but …” Jim sighed. “I know what you want to say. We are taking care of the effects, but not of the cause. You’ve seen the old scars, Hershel. This wasn’t the first time it happened and it won’t be the last. If we just patch him up and send him home …”  
He ran both hands through his thick, dark hair.   
         “I couldn’t send him home, even if I wanted to. I don’t know the boy’s name, don’t know where he lives and I know he’s not gonna tell me. And neither will Rick.”

The man stood abruptly and started pacing the room.

         “I cannot let him just stay here! I don’t have the right! He’s got parents, they have custody and …”

         “You didn’t kidnap him and you’re not holding him here against his will. He’s just … visiting with a friend.”

Jim lifted an eyebrow and cast the doctor a meaningful glance.

         “Are you trying to teach me how to bend the law without breaking it, doctor?” 

A smile tugged at Hershel’s lips shortly before it faded again.

         “You are worrying about the wrong laws here, Jim. The ones that would protect the parents’ rights. What about Daryl’s rights? Like the right of physical integrity? Isn’t it our goddamn duty to protect children from people like that?”

Jim couldn’t help smiling for a moment.

         “ _Goddamn duty_ … I like that. But even if we swear to high heaven and are _right_ , it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t just keep Daryl here. His parents need to be informed – and prosecuted – so I need to know who that boy is.”

Hershel looked at him calmly.

         “You heard what Rick said. That Daryl’s more afraid of being taken away from the only home he’s ever known, than of having to go back there. He doesn’t want us to …”

         “He is _sixteen_ , Hershel. He cannot _want_ anything. He’s got no right to _want_ anything.”

         “It’s his life, Jim. And from the looks of it that life has been nothing but awful so far. Saving him from one hell to send him straight to the next cannot be what you want.”

Jim pressed his lips together and shook his head.

         “Of course not, but my hands are tied.”

         “Well, right now we should make sure that boy is recovering and gets a moment of peace, don’t you think? And in the meantime we might find a suitable solution.”

Surprised the lawyer lifted his head and looked his old friend in the eyes.

         “We?”

         “Only if you want my help and advice beyond the medical assistance.”

         “I wouldn’t want you to get involved any further than you already are. I cannot ask that of you. It’s like I said – there may be questions and lots of trouble …”

         “How exciting! Jim, I haven’t been in _lots of trouble_ in all my life and I’m pushing seventy. Maybe it’s about time.”

A smile spread over his face and he winked at the lawyer. Then he leaned forward and reached for a notepad and a pen on Jim’s desk, casting him a questioning look.

         “Please, help yourself”, Jim nodded, wondering what the doctor was up to now.

After scribbling something on the small piece of paper, Hershel folded it twice and then got up to approach the younger man. He held the note out to him.

         “This is your house, so it’s your rules. And it should be your call, too.”

         “What is this?” Jim asked, while he was about to unfold the sheet.

Hershel’s hand stopped him.

         “This is Daryl’s full name and that of his father. And the address of the place they live in. His mother is dead and his older brother currently in jail again.” 

The lawyer’s eyes widened.  
          
         “You know Daryl?”  
          
         “Everybody who’s lived in New Hope long enough knows that family”, Hershel said with a sad inflection.  
         “It’s your decision whether you gonna read this note and use the information given to you or if you destroy it and pretend not to know. I cannot make this decision for you, but I’d like to help you whichever way you decide.”

He breathed in deep and swallowed thickly, before he added:

         “I was there the day five-year-old Daryl lost his mother and I’ve seen how he had to grow up. There were signs, but everybody looked away, including me. But not anymore. When you’re my age, Jim, you don’t wanna look back on your life and realize that you’ve made mistakes. It’s shameful. I’d like to put this right before my time comes – I think I owe Daryl that much.” 

He gave the younger man’s wrist a squeeze, before turning on his heels and heading to the door.

         “I’ll come by tonight to check on the patient. See you later.”

He left the room and let himself out, leaving a speechless Jim Grimes behind, who stared at a small folded piece of paper in his hand. 

 

*******

 

It was late in the afternoon when Daryl finally came around again. 

Both Rick and Catherine hadn’t left the room for longer than a few minutes at a time – to get something to eat or go to the bathroom – and had occupied their time with watching TV, reading Stephen King’s _Mind Control_ and knitting a sweater.   
Catherine was knitting the sweater, of course, while Rick prayed with all his heart that she’d find a new victim to wear it when it was done.   
Christmas was near and he dreaded the worst. For as long as he could think back he’d been the laughing stock at school each winter anew, when he had showed up wearing his mother’s latest monstrosity after the holidays. Something like this could perfectly spoil even Christmas for a kid. 

The moment Daryl stirred they were both out of their recliners and by his side, having him flinch when he opened his eyes and saw two faces hover right above him.

         “Jesus!” he grumbled, casting them a dark look.

         “No, it’s just me – Rick”, the younger boy teased, but the joke fell flat. 

         “How are you feeling?” Catherine said sirupy. 

         “Peachy”, came the sarcastic reply and it irritated her visibly. 

Apparently she wasn’t used to grumpy patients and wasn’t sure how to handle this. Especially since she couldn’t understand _why_ Daryl was grumpy and appeared to be anything but happy to be here or in the least thankful.   
On the contrary, he was squirming as though he was downright uncomfortable.

         “Well”, she said at a lack for words, “why don’t I make us a nice cup of tea?”

Without waiting for an answer she headed to the kitchen and Rick suppressed a grin when he saw the disgusted expression on Daryl’s face.  
          
         “If ya peeps intend ta kill me, why didn’t ya just leave me out on the porch?” 

This time _his_ joke fell flat and Rick’s smile vanished.

         “Not funny”, he commented dryly.

         “Ain’t laughin’”, Daryl shot back. 

He started squirming again and cast a nervous glance into the direction of the kitchen where Catherine was preparing the promised tea.

         “Rick”, he whispered conspiratorially, gesturing for his friend to move closer. 

When the younger boy leaned in, he whispered to him:

         “I gotta take a piss.”

         “You’re not supposed to get up.”

Daryl rolled his eyes.

         “So whadda ya want me ta do? Suck it up and spit it out?”

         “Sure would be a neat trick.”

         “Glad ya havin’ fun, man. – Ain’t gonna be fun here much longer though”, he warned.

Rick got up quickly. 

         “Bottle?”

         “Whatever! But hurry already.” 

A second later Rick was in the kitchen, grabbed a half full bottle of water from the counter and shoved his mother towards the hallway.

         “What …?”

         “You gotta stay outside for a moment, mom.”

         “What? Why …”

         “Nature calls, for crying out loud. We need some privacy in here.”

         “Oh.” 

With a shrug she disappeared through the door while Rick hurried back to Daryl, where he was met by a curious frown. 

         “We?”

         “ _You_. Don’t take everything with a pinch of salt.”   
                    
         “Just gimme that bottle already.”

Rick handed him the desired item and helped him to sit up. 

         “Need a hand?”

Daryl cast him a glance while he was fiddling with the fly of his pants.

         “The hell’s the matter with ya? Ya keep sayin’ stuff like that, ya know that? Ya comin’ on to me or somethin’?” 

Rick froze and stared at him speechless for a moment. It was impossible to tell if that was a joke or if Daryl was serious. The younger boy swallowed against a lump in his throat. 

         “If I was, would you mind?” 

He played along. That, too, could have been a joke or a serious question and for a moment it confused him that he was’t sure himself which it was. For a couple of heartbeats they looked each other deep in the eyes until Daryl’s annoyed           “Shit!”   
ended the magical moment.

He had almost peed his pants and focussed on the urgent matter at hand now. Although his friend hadn’t said a word, Rick discreetly turned around and started pacing the room.   
The dribbling sound of water followed by the older boy’s relieved sigh a moment later indicated that the task was completed, and without any fuss Rick took the bottle out of Daryl’s hand, while the archer lowered himself back onto the couch.   
Gently Rick helped pulling the blankets up around him and then rested his hand on Daryl’s shoulder for a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

         “Thanks”, Daryl said softly.

         “No problem.”

         “Could ya do me another favor?”

         “Sure.”

         “Could ya spare me yer mom’s tea, please?” He pointed at the bottle in Rick’s hand. “I’d rather drink _that_ than tea.”

Rick chuckled.

         “Probably tastes better, too.” 

Again Daryl cast him a look, accompanied by a frown.

         “Startin’ ta worry about ya, man. – Best pour that stuff away ‘fore someone thinks it’s lemonade.” 

Catherine’s voice from the door while she lightly knocked on it saved Rick the answer.

         “Knock, knock!”

         “Who’s there?” Rick replied.

         “Rick!” Daryl said with a sigh. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

He hated these stupid knock knock jokes. 

Rick’s mother came in right in time to see him press both hands to his head, his face distorted by pain.  
In an instant she was by his side.

         “What is it?”

         “Nothin’.”

She cast him a look.

         “Oh, _nothing_ again. Would you, please, stop playing everything down? I can’t help you, if you’re not telling me when it hurts.”

         “Ya don’t have ta help me.”

         “No, I don’t _have_ to, but I want to. So spit it out, Daryl, d’you got a headache?”

With a sigh he gave a curt nod. 

         “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Rick, can you get me the Aspirin, please?” 

Without replying Rick left to get the requested pills and pour the _lemonade._ After he had handed his mother the Aspirin and some water, he went about pouring the tea as well.  
He wasn’t needed here. She took care of Daryl and she wouldn’t leave anytime soon. The mother hen mode had kicked in and Rick knew what that meant – he didn’t matter anymore, _nothing_ mattered anymore save for her patient.   
The only thing left for him to do was make sure his friend was spared Catherine’s gruesome tea. 

 

*******

 

Dr. Hershel Greene came back for a second exam that night just as he had promised. He took Daryl’s temperature again, did another ultrasound and changed the bandages. When he left, after loading the ultrasound unit into his car, he was quite optimistic. 

         “I’m confident that there won’t be any complications”, he reassured Jim when the lawyer saw him out, “but like I said – keep an eye on him for the next couple of days, just to be on the safe side.”

He cast the younger man a questioning look and Jim placed his hand onto the breast pocket of his shirt, where he had placed the note earlier that day.

         “I haven’t decided yet”, was all he said and Hershel nodded in silent understanding. 

An hour later, after they had had some pumpkin soup for dinner, Jim announced that he was going to take over _night shift._

          “You two”, he addressed his wife and son, “have taken care of Daryl all day long. It’s my turn now.”

         “Sorry for bein’ a burden”, Daryl had muttered, not meeting anybody’s eyes, but Jim had replied instantly before anyone else had a chance to:

         “You’re not a burden. But you _are_ our responsibility. It was our choice not to take you to a hospital, so now we gotta make sure …”

         “That I ain’t causin’ more trouble by dyin’ on ya.”

         “That you’ve got everything you need, so you’ll get better soon”, Jim ended the sentence determinedly.   
          
         “I can help”, Rick tossed in, but was met by his father’s stern eyes.

         “You’ve already missed a school day today, young man. You’re not gonna miss another one, so off to bed now.” 

         “But …”

         “I don’t want a discussion, Rick. – With either of you”, he included his wife instantly when he saw her open her mouth to protest.  
         “Just go, please. It’s late and I’ve got a couple of things to … to figure out.”

         “But you call me immediately when you need help”, she said stubbornly. 

Both Catherine and Rick reluctantly wished a good night to Jim and Daryl and then left the room to head upstairs.   
Wordlessly the man went to the fireplace and started preparing a fire, which would both heat up the room and spread a warm and soothing light. He needed some peace and quiet – and time to think. The piece of paper in his pocket weighed as heavy as lead.  
He turned the lights in the living room off and immediately the room was bathed into the soft orange glow the fire emitted.

         “Do you need anything?” he said to the boy in his care, who had rolled into a ball on the couch and watched him quietly. 

         “Nah. Thanks, Mr. G.”

That had a smile tug on Jim’s lips. ‘Mr. G’ sure was an improvement over ‘sir’.   
The moment _Mr. G_ had started running the espresso machine to get some real strong stay-awake-all-night help, the door was opened soundlessly and a slim figure in PJs sneaked into the kitchen.  
          
         “Dad?”

Jim cast his son a stern glance.

         “Which part of …”

         “Please, hear me out”, Rick whispered.

It was hard to tell if he was keeping it down because he thought Daryl was asleep or because he didn’t want his friend to hear what he had to say.

         “I know it’s a school day tomorrow, but please let me stay home till Daryl is better. Just for the few days Doctor Greene wants us to keep an eye on him.”

         “Rick …”  
          
         “Dad, I know you and mom have done this for years and you can, but you don’t have to do this alone. I can help. And … I couldn’t concentrate at school anyhow. If anything was to happen while I’m not here …”

Jim felt a cold hand grab his heart and squeeze.   
He hadn’t even thought that. The mere fact that Hershel was optimistic was no guarantee for Daryl’s recovery. If the boy’s condition took a turn for the worse, Rick might lose a friend without having a chance to say good-bye, because Jim had sent him off to read Shakespeare or solve math problems.   
Now, what was more important? 

         “Okay”, he gave in, “but only for a few days and under the condition that you make up leeway.” 

         “Deal”, Rick said relieved. “Thanks, dad.” 

 

In the twilight of the living room Daryl listened to Rick’s bare feet pitter-patter out of the room and with each step Daryl’s heartbeat accelerated.   
He had strained his ears, but hadn’t been able to understand what father and son had been talking about. But their inflections had been stern, agitated, even slightly upset – no doubt it had been about him again.   
Whatever the problem had been, the conversation was over now and Rick had left. Daryl was alone with Jim Grimes now.  
He had only met the man once before – at Thanksgiving – and he’d been nice enough, had tried to joke even. But there was something about him that made Daryl nervous. The man knew what he wanted, he was straightforward, strict, serious and downright intimidating. Daryl wasn’t sure he trusted him and he sure as hell wouldn’t let his guard down, alone in a room with a man he barely knew.   
Despite having slept half of the day, he was tired and his head hurt again. He would have liked another pain killer, but didn’t dare ask for one. Same as he didn’t dare close his eyes to sleep despite his exhaustion.   
The small voice inside of him told him he was acting irrationally. Jim Grimes had done right by him, and the mere fact that he let him stay here, called a doctor for him and risked keeping a lid on all this indicated that he was a man of honor.   
And still Daryl’s heart kept on beating frantically. He wished Rick hadn’t left him alone.

With a heavy sigh Jim lowered himself into the recliner his wife had sat in before and took a sip from the espresso. He had made it a double, but no doubt this wouldn’t be the last cup he was going to have that night. 

He pulled the small piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at it with a thoughtful look. 

         _“It’s your decision whether you gonna read this note and use the information given to you or if you destroy it and pretend not to know.”_

Despite being a poor excuse for a father, Daryl’s dad may be looking for him.   
Maybe he had been drunk, too drunk to control his actions, and when he woke up and realized what he had done, he may have been sorry and worried. Maybe he had already filed a missing person report and the police were looking for Daryl.   
If Jim opened this sheet of paper and read Daryl’s name, telling people he hadn’t known the boy’s identity would be a lie.   
And he was a father himself. He knew what it felt like to lose a child. And if Rick went missing, he’d be scared witless. Did he even have the right to keep Daryl’s whereabouts a secret? What was he doing to the poor man?  
Hershel had told him about _signs_ , about a _suspicion_ that Daryl was the victim of abuse, but the boy himself hadn’t accused his father with one single word. He had never actually _told_ them that his dad did this. Could just as well have been a neighbor, another relative, a perfect stranger. As long as Daryl kept silent, there was no telling.   
The man sighed.   
Why was he even trying to delude himself? Neighbor … Perfect stranger … Bullshit. The old scars told the whole story and he knew it. This boy had been a victim of domestic abuse for years, no matter how hard Jim wished to find another explanation, another _truth._ There was no whitewashing this.  
Did it really make a difference whether he read the note or not? There was a man out there, who beat this boy half to death and he had to be found and prosecuted.   
         Keeping silent was a mistake. If he knew Daryl’s name, he had to take action. 

He understood Daryl’s fear, saw his dilemma.   
         _The choice between the devil and the deep blue sea._  
Yes, that’s probably what was in store for him, but for the life of him Jim didn’t see a solution, a way out.

Gritting his teeth he returned the note to his pocket and looked over to the boy in his care. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Daryl’s eyes open, while he was watching him silently.   
The teenager lay totally still, didn’t move a muscle and looked at him deadpan. But by the light of the fireplace his one good eye seemed to glow and watched Jim so intensely that the man shuddered for a moment. 

         “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly into the stillness of the room.

Daryl barely noticeable shook his head.

         “Huh. Since we’re both here and got nothing better to do – d’you wanna tell me what happened?”

Again Daryl just shook his head, this time fiercer than before. 

         “You know, Daryl, I don’t have to hear the reason why it happened. There is none. Nothing, absolutely nothing justifies or explains how any parent can beat their child repeatedly and to such an extent. Actually, it’s no more than a sign of weakness, if you don’t have the arguments to _talk_ about things. Trying to beat your point of view into someone never works.”

         “Ya never hit Rick?” Daryl asked so soft that it was barely audible.

         “No. Never. Kids can drive a parent up the wall at times and push all of their buttons, especially when they’re teenagers, but beating them doesn’t make them respect you and understand your point, it makes them fear and hate you. What kind of father would want their son to fear and hate them?”

         “Father who never wanted ya in the first place, don’t give a damn ‘bout ya ‘n’ only keeps ya ‘round ta do the dirty work”, Daryl said in a bitter inflection.

         “So it _was_ your dad who did this to you?”

As if he didn’t know.    
Daryl’s eyes narrowed even more and he pressed his lips together for a moment before he answered:

         “Course.”  
          
Jim looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. 

         “And still you’d prefer to go back than to a foster family or …”

         “Yeah”, Daryl cut in. “Any other place may be even worse.”

         “How can it possibly be worse than this?”

Daryl looked at him as though he was surprised that a man with Jim’s education could know so little about the world out there.

         “If I get beaten, least ‘s ma own father doin’ it. ‘s what I know. ‘s what I can handle.

Jim’s mouth gaped open.

         “What makes you think you’d be beaten in a new home, too?”

         “What makes ya think I ain’t? – Ma home may be a shitty place, but ‘s a shitty place I _know._ Don’t wanna be send ta perfect strangers ‘n’ a town I dunno, no place ta run to like ‘em woods. And …” 

He breathed in deep, but didn’t say anymore. He had wanted to add _“And I’d miss Rick”,_ but he tried to dismiss that thought. Maybe he had already lost Rick, so he had better gotten used to the thought that his future life didn’t include the other boy any more, no matter where he lived. 

Jim’s mouth was parched all of a sudden and he just wordlessly stared at his son’s friend.    
It was one thing to _know_ these things were happening, and another to actually have one of the victims right there in your home and to learn about the extent of their suffering, their fears and hopelessness. 

Subconsciously he placed his hand on the note in his pocket for a moment, before straightening up and addressing the boy once more.

“Daryl, can I ask you something?”

“Ya just did.”

The reply brought the ghost of a smile to Jim’s face. 

         “Right. Well, tell me, please - if you had to choose between the right thing to do and the thing your heart tells you to do, which one would it be?”

It was silent for a moment, while Daryl’s eyes looked at the man intensely. Then the teenager replied:

         “If yer a decent person, shouldn’t that be one ‘n’ the same?”

Jim looked at him stunned. Time and again this boy was able to surprise him – in a good way – and deep down inside the man had to admit that he was deeply impressed. 

         “You’re right”, he agreed with a nod, “it should be. – Try to get some rest now.”

Daryl nodded wordlessly and closed his eyes.    
His heart beat way calmer than before now and some of his nervousness had subsided. This man may have been intimidating, but he appeared to be on his side. He wouldn’t hurt him and maybe he could even trust him, trust him to find a way out or to at least respect his wish to not be sent away.    
Either way – for now it was safe to just sleep for a while, Daryl figured. He was tired, mentally maybe even more than physically, and just wanted to forget his entire miserable existence for a while.   
While the teenager drifted off, Jim Grimes got up and quietly approached the fireplace.    
Fire had always had a soothing effect on him and with a hand resting on the mantlepiece he stared into the dancing flames for a moment. The new picture on the mantlepiece caught his attention suddenly and his sight got blurry instantly when he looked at Jeffrey’s pictures.    
His little boy, the son he wasn’t able to save. This world was crazy and so unbelievably unfair. There were people who wanted children so badly and yet couldn’t have any or lost those they had, while others didn’t value the ones they were blessed with and tossed them away like trash.   
Swallowing thickly, Jim cast a look over his shoulder at the sleeping boy and pulled in a deep breath. 

_ “If yer a decent person, shouldn’t that be one ‘n’ the same?” _

He pulled the note out of the pocket of his shirt and held it in his hand for another moment. Then, without any second thought, he tossed it into the fire and watched the flames consume the small piece of paper.   
 


	12. Chapter 12

The next three days Catherine was in heaven. She finally had a reason again to get up at all. She had something meaningful to do, a way to occupy her time with something else but washing, cleaning and cooking and counting the seconds of the day senselessly ticking away. 

Doctor Greene came by once a day as he had promised and he ended up being right – Daryl’s condition improved bit by bit.   
The swellings in his face subsided, the bruises changed their color and got lighter and the cuts and weals on his back started to heal. The only thing that did not improve was his demeanor. 

As though not a day had passed, he was withdrawn, quiet, turned his back on the world and barely ever looked anybody in the eyes. He ate little, took his medication wordlessly and didn’t even react to Rick in a different way – on the contrary. His friend’s presence seemed to make him feel twice as uncomfortable, but when being asked about it, he wouldn’t speak or say it was “nothing”, as usual. 

Rick was suffering silently. He didn’t even have to ask – he knew why Daryl shut him out, why he wouldn’t talk to him more than necessary and hardly ever looked at him. Daryl was still angry with him, which was understandable.   
Although the archer had meant for the abuse a remain a secret, he had still let that information seep through to Rick. A first call for help maybe? The desire for someone to share his sorrow with, so his friend would help carry that load?   
And hadn’t Rick offered his help, promised him to _always_ be there for him? And then, when Daryl had needed him the most, he had _not_ been there, had ignored him, had closed his window as well as his eyes and ears to his friend’s agony.   
Maybe he was being too hard on himself. Maybe Daryl was being to hard on him. But it didn’t change the fact that his friend had almost died and Rick hadn’t been there for him the way he had promised.   
He was ashamed for what he had done, although nothing of what happened had been deliberate. It was a mistake, a mishap – the shit that allegedly happened. But it would take time for that gap between him and Daryl to heal along with his friend’s wounds.  
So he tried to give Daryl that time, showed up in the living room now and then in case the other boy wanted to talk – which he never did – and otherwise stayed clear of him.  
He missed Daryl. Missed their carefree times at the lake and in the cave – together. Missed the warm summer days when they had explored the woods and had seen magical places – together. He missed their conversations – verbal or spiritual –, missed Daryl’s touch, his hugs, the moments when he had put a hand on his arm or an arm around his shoulders. He missed looking into the shadow blue eyes, missed the deep, raspy voice, missed that _bond_ that had started to build between them.   
         Was it broken? Would they ever be the friends again they had been before all this had happened? Did Daryl still want to be here or would he leave first chance he got and never come back? Would he rather go back to his abusive father than face a friend, who had let him down and disappointed him to no end?   
Rick was longing to talk to Daryl, to apologize. He wanted to make up for his mistake, but he wasn’t sure if Daryl would give him that chance. And even if he would have – they never had a single moment of privacy. Catherine or Jim seemed to be in the room almost permanently. As soon as one of them stepped out to go to the bathroom or take a shower or whatever, the other one showed up, dollars to donuts. Thus there hadn’t even been an attempt to talk to Daryl and their status quo remained unaltered.  
Rick missed Daryl.

And Daryl missed Rick.   
He had been the only one who ever cared for him, the only one who had ever touched him without hurting him, who didn’t need a thunderstorm as an alibi to _get_ something from him. Rick had hugged him to _give_ and no one had ever done that before – give him _anything._ Friendship, tenderness, love.   
Daryl had gotten a glimpse on all that and now he had probably lost it. For good. It was unlikely that he would ever again meet a Rick Grimes – a person who was able to look beyond the shaggy appearance and shitty background and would want to be friends for what they found there.  
But _beyond_ there wasn’t just a boy who was able to hunt and track, shoot a crossbow and stand up to the scum of _Terminus._ There was a weak, insecure, lonely boy there as well.   
One who would run and hide, who would retract to a fantasy world when running and hiding were no options and he was trapped in the hell his violent father evoked. A boy who didn’t have the balls to stand up to his dad, although Will Dixon wasn’t as tall as Negan and didn’t have the back-up of a gang like Tomas. He was just one man, and yet Daryl allowed him to do all this to him without fighting back.   
Surely Rick had expected him to be someone way stronger, tougher, cooler. What a disappointment he must be to his friend. He wasn’t man enough to find all the food he needed and couldn’t stand up to an old man. Will Dixon was forty-one, so how difficult could it be to put him in his place? Yet Rick had to support him with supplies and then Daryl had showed up here like _this._ A total failure, a loser, a nobody.   
No wonder Rick was staying clear of him. The only reason he showed up in the living room once in a while was probably to check if Daryl was well enough yet to kick him out, so he would get his home and his parents back.   
And once Daryl had left this house, he would never set foot in here again, would never see Rick again, would lose the only friend he’d ever had.   
Just the thought brought a stinging sensation to his eyes and he swallowed thickly.  
Pussy! Now he was gonna break out in tears on top of it all? Yeah, he deserved the beating and he deserved to be deserted. What he didn’t deserve was Rick’s friendship. If only he wasn’t missing him so much.

Catherine didn’t notice the boys’ heartache and sorrow. She was too busy fussing over her patient.   
She brought him food, tucked him in, fluffed up his pillow, gave him painkillers if he needed them, took his temperature and helped him to the bathroom, where only a door pushed in her face was able to stop her from accompanying him even in there.  
She was a 120% devoted and perfect nurse – and drove Daryl nuts.   
He wasn’t used to people around him 24/7 and as ironic as it was – he needed solitude once in a while. There was a difference between being alone and lonesome – people could be in a crowded room and still be lonely, just like they could be all by themselves in the middle of the woods and have everything they needed.  
This woman smothered him, made him feel caged and overwhelmed him with her care till he felt like he was suffocating.   
She meant well, he knew that, and he had never before in his life been so well fed, had never slept undisturbed, had never been this warm and protected. And still he felt like running. It was too much. Even too much of something good could make a person want to scream and run.   
He was grateful for the breaks he was getting when only Jim was there. The man still was sort of eerie to him, but Jim at least stayed totally clear of him. He handed him what he needed or just placed it on the coffee table and then he would sit in his recliner to read or watch TV. If he talked to Daryl it was when Daryl spoke first, otherwise he kept quiet. He didn’t asked him every other minute if he was alright or needed anything – he waited for the boy to tell him if he was in pain or hungry or whatever.   
The archer prefered Jim’s subtle and reticent type of care. He was _there_ without being all over him and gave him a chance to breathe.   
But he couldn’t tell Catherine to back off, just like he couldn’t ask Jim to talk to his wife about this. They would be offended and that was the last thing Daryl wanted. They had done so much, so he kept his mouth shut and endured it. 

 

After six days of being a guest at the Grimes’ residence, Daryl’s mood shifted from being on edge to being close to panic.    
His injuries were healing well and although the wounds still needed treatment and he was still hurting, Dr. Greene had allowed him to get up and finally leave the couch.    
Leaving that couch and being back on his feet was a blessing. What scared Daryl witless was having to leave this house soon.    
He was well enough to return home and couldn’t overstay his welcome any further, but after almost a week of not having been home and supplying for the old man, his father was probably a raging maniac. The boy knew what was in store for him, if Will Dixon got his hands on him, but there was no way he could stay clear of him forever.    
His best chance was to bring a ton of stuff home and hope that this would calm his father enough to leave him be. It was his _only_ chance.   
The Grimes had meant well and he was grateful for all they had done, but it would have been better, if they had just left him out on the porch. He would have died peacefully. Would have drifted off to a better world with no hunger, humiliation, loneliness and pain.    
By saving him they had only postponed the inevitable, had prolonged his suffering and made sure he was going to die a violent death at the hands of his father one of these days.    
His father, who had hated him from the moment he had drawn his first breath. Who had told Merle to “drown the ugly li’l rat” when he’d just been born. It may have been better for all of them, if Merle had just done it, instead of punching Will in the face and settle the matter the Dixon way.   
Merle. For the first time in months Daryl missed his brother achingly. He was a jackass, but at least he understood, knew how it was, had been a little bit of a shield. He may not have been entirely on his baby brother’s side, for Merle’s world revolved around Merle and no one else, but at least he’d never been against him. 

         “Breakfast is ready, boys!” Catherine called from the dining room in that moment.

Sunday morning breakfast. She was ecstatic. Her patient was well enough to get up, not least thanks to her care, and she was going to make sure this would be the best breakfast Daryl had ever had.    
She had messed up Thanksgiving dinner, so Catherine had set her mind on making this meal perfect.    
There were pancakes with lots of maple syrup, freshly baked buns and toast, various kinds of marmalade, peanut butter, chocolate as well as cheese and lunchmeat. She had made scrambled eggs, fried bacon and hash browns, had pressed a load of oranges for fresh juice and brewed both coffee and tea.    
The table was about to collapse under the load and Jim stood in the doorway with his mouth gaped open.

         “Honey, you should have told me you invited the entire neighborhood for breakfast”, he teased. 

         “Fiddlesticks”, she laughed and his heart skipped a beat on hearing it. He had missed her laughter.   
         “We’ve got two growing boys in the house and you know boys that age are always hungry. Besides, we need to fatten Daryl up a little. He’s way too thin.”

Rick showed up behind his father and together the two Grimes men entered the room and took their seats.   
The teenager let his eyes wander over the table and then looked up to his mother with wide eyes. What a change!   
Her eyes weren’t clouded anymore – they were vivid and clear and shining in a way he had barely ever seen before. Apparently she hadn’t taken any pills. She was just _happy._   
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was good seeing her that way and he had to hand it to her – she had done an excellent job these past days, as had his dad and Dr. Greene. Daryl was going to live. No matter what was going to happen to their friendship – he was thankful to his mom and the two men for making sure his friend was still a part of this world, so the two of them had a chance at all to figure things out.   
The next moment the smile on the teenager’s face vanished when his eyes came to rest on a fifth place setting at the head of the table.    
Gosh, no, not again. 

         “Mom”, he started with a sigh, while he pointed to the extra plate, but she cut in instantly.

         “It’s not what you’re thinking, sweetheart. I invited Dr. Greene. That’s the least we can do to thank him for all he’s done.”

         “That, and paying the horrendous bill he, no doubt, is gonna send us soon”, Jim added with a wink. 

He wasn’t even sure Hershel was going to charge them for his services, but he couldn’t have cared less. Catherine was right – the man deserved gratitude, not just for pills and bandages, but most of all for his advice, support and the will to take a risk to save a life. 

         “Mornin’”, Daryl’s voice from the doorway caught the three Grimes’ attention.

Daryl’s hair was still moist from the shower he had taken that morning, which had taken ages, since he had to wash up without getting the wounds on his back wet. But he had managed. He was wearing a pair of Rick’s blue jeans and a white woolen cable-knit sweater Catherine had gotten from her son’s closet.   
When he noticed his friend’s gaze, Daryl’s uncomfortable feeling increased.

         “This okay?” he asked Rick cautiously, pulling lightly on the sweater, so the younger boy knew that he was talking about wearing his clothes.   
         “Mine’s pretty much destroyed, so yer mom lemme …”

         “’course it’s okay”, Rick cut in. “Looks good.”

With a nod Daryl lowered himself to Rick’s side.    
_ Good.  _ He had tried to look better than just good, but obviously he would never make it beyond that.    
Rick tried to still his racing heartbeat. That sweater was one of the _monstrosities_ his mother had gifted him either on his birthday or Christmas – he couldn’t even remember. He had worn it once to be polite, but ever since then it had gathered dust in the back of his closet. He had never thought that _anybody_ could look like a decent human being in that thing, until Daryl had walked into the room.   
The tight dark blue jeans along with the white sweater that accentuated his slim waist and the broad shoulders looked stunning and once again _good_ was definitely another word for _gorgeous._

Doctor Greene arrived ten minutes later and for the next hour everybody enjoyed Catherine’s delicious breakfast and made light, merry conversation. At least the three adults did. Rick and Daryl only spoke when they were addressed and despite being hungry they were barely able to eat anything.    
The awkward tension between them was almost palpable and they both noticed how the other would cast glances out of the corner of the eye time and again or open their mouth to say something, only to remain silent in the end.    
Their behavior didn’t go unnoticed, but the reason for it was entirely misinterpreted.    
Jim and Cathy thought they saw worry, maybe even separation anxiety and once in a while cast each other a look. The previous night they had talked it through and came to a conclusion. Right after breakfast they were going to tell the boys about it.   
Daryl noticed the glances and his nervousness increased by the minute.   
They were up to something. This was it – his last meal before the curtain would fall. Everybody was gathered, including Doctor Greene, so they could say their good-byes, maybe have the doc examine him one last time to make sure he was fit to go home and then they would throw him out. 

Daryl’s heart was hammering painfully and his stomach was in knots now.    
What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go home empty-handed. The cave! He’d go there and get all the supplies, take them home to his dad – and pray. Pray that it would be enough for his father to have mercy.

         “Daryl”, Jim addressed him in that moment and with a start the boy dropped the butter knife he had been clutching.

It was deadly quiet all of a sudden as four pairs of eyes lingered on him, accompanied by concerned frowns. The teenager was as white as a sheet all of a sudden and stared down on his plate, breathing fitfully. 

         “Are you alright?” Hershel asked and Daryl nodded instantly.

         _“Pull yourself together”,_ he berated himself. _“You can’t be a pussy again.”_

         “Fine”, he said, hoping his voice wouldn’t tremble. 

Before anyone could say anymore, the doctor’s cell rang. 

         “Excuse me”, Hershel apologized, “but I need to answer that. Might be an emergency. There’s a foal due today.”

After listening shortly to the caller, the doctor hung up and looked at the assembled people with an regretting air.

         “I’m afraid I have to go. The foal is on its way. Thank you for the delicious meal, Catherine.”

         “You are welcome, Hershel. We need to thank you for all you’ve done.”

The elderly man cast a look at his patient and smiled. 

         “My pleasure”, he said softly. 

When Daryl lifted his head and dared meet his eyes, he gave the boy a reassuring nod. 

         “Everything will be alright”, he just said, before he turned to head to the door.

         “Let me see you out”, Jim offered and then accompanied their guest to the front door.

         “I’ll call you later”, Hershel said on his way out. Then he stopped once again and turned back around.   
         “By the way – have you made a decision yet?”

Jim nodded with a stern air on his face.

         “He’s gonna tell me all I need to know – in his own time. I burned the note.”

Hershel returned the nod and then wordlessly walked to his car that was parked in the driveway. He got in and waved to the man standing on the front porch while he backed out onto the street. When he drove away, Hershel Greene was smiling.

When Jim returned to the dining room, Catherine was chatting about the book she was currently reading, which no doubt was an attempt to lighten the tension in the room and drive the silence away. But the more she tried to created a relaxed mood, the more the awkwardness increased. It was more than obvious that something was up.

         “Please”, Daryl croaked out the moment Jim appeared in the room”, “I know ya got somethin’ ta say. Just say it already ‘n’ get it over with.” 

         “Jeez”, the man said with a smile”, “you make it sound as though we were gonna sentence you to death.” 

It was supposed to be a joke, but it fell flat.

         “Ain’t ya?” Daryl said barely audible. “Ya sendin’ me back home, right?”   
          
         “No”, Jim said straight out. “Catherine and I, we’ve been talking and came to the conclusion that there is no way you gonna go back to that _person._ ”

Daryl’s eyes widened fearfully.

         “Ya called the cops, right? Or whoever. Ya gonna send me away someplace?” 

         “No, honey”, Catherine cut in soothingly, “we would like you to stay with us.”

         “No!” Rick was on his feet the next moment and had everybody stare at him totally stunned. 

         “We thought you’d be happy to have Daryl here”, Catherine stuttered helplessly the next moment, taken aback by her son’s fierce reaction.

         “ _ Me _ , mom? This is not about me – or him – right? You wanna make him your new project, don’t you? In case you haven’t noticed – you have another son already! There wasn’t just Jeffrey.”

         “I know, honey, but you never needed me.”

         “Of course I did!” Rick was almost yelling now. “I was alone all this time, while you were focusing on Jeff. And now it’s gonna start all over again! Even worse. You gonna … you gonna …Damn.” 

He turned on his heels and ran out of the room the next moment. Catherine stared after him for a split second, then she followed him.

         “Rick! Wait up!  _ Rick! _ ”

Shaking his head to himself, Jim looked apologetically at Daryl, who sat frozen on his chair and stared blindly ahead of himself. 

         “If I told you this wasn’t always a madhouse, you probably wouldn’t believe it, huh?” Jim tried to joke, but the teenager didn’t react. The man sighed.   
         “I’m sorry, Daryl. The offer still stands, but … we gonna talk about this a little later. Okay? I … We need to talk to Rick and clear this up. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” 

Daryl didn’t respond. He just nodded barely noticeable while he kept staring ahead of himself.    
With a squeeze to his shoulder Jim left him alone in the deserted dining room and headed after his family. Somewhere in the distance, probably in Jim’s study, Daryl heard Rick and Catherine’s agitated voices, but they were muffled by the closed door and he couldn’t make out the words.    
He didn’t have to.   
What was there to clear up? Rick said ‘No’ and which part of ‘No’ was not to understand? There really weren’t too many ways to interpret that one single word, now, were there?    
Rick didn’t want him here no more, just as Daryl had feared. This friendship was over. Rick had no intention to share his parents and his home with someone who didn’t belong here, someone he couldn’t respect anymore, someone he didn’t care for any longer.    
He had barely looked at him all week and his reaction right now made it more than obvious – he wanted Daryl gone.

It had lasted for one wonderful second.    
Daryl’s dream had almost come true – the dream of having a home where he didn’t have to fear being hurt or worry about going hungry. Just for that one single second he had dared imagine living in this beautiful house and seeing Rick every day. It would have been too good to be true. It  _ was  _ too good to be true. Dreams coming true didn’t happen to Dixons.    
Rick’s ‘No’ had destroyed the beautiful rainbow bubble. For a moment Daryl thought the breaking of his heart must have been audible, but there was no one there who would have noticed. He was alone. Again.    
Maybe this was for the better. Him being here would only cause problems. What would the family’s friends and neighbors say? He didn’t belong here, had triggered suspicious looks just by walking down the street the other day. There’d probably be a neighborhood watch in no time because of him, making sure  _ the suspicious person  _ in the Grimes’ house would stay clear of people’s property and their daughters. After all, there was no telling what he could do. Daryl had heard that kind of talk often enough to know.    
He didn’t want to cause problems for the Grimes. Didn’t mean to be a burden and the reason for the neighborhood to be in an uproar. But most of all he didn’t want to be here, if Rick wanted him gone. 

A stray tear ran down Daryl’s cheek.    
All he had wanted was a place where he was welcome. But obviously such a place didn’t exist in this world. Maybe then this world wasn’t for him. 

He got up and headed to the back porch. Somewhere in the house he still heard the three voices arguing, but he didn’t listen. It didn’t concern him anymore. 

         “Bye”, he whispered before he pulled the door close behind him and headed out into the cold, late autumn morning. 

 

*******

          
         “You still don’t get it, do you, mom?”

         “Stop yelling at your mother right now, Rick.” Jim looked his son sternly in the eyes. “We are willing to listen to what you’ve got to say, but not like this, young man.” 

It was silent for a moment as all three members of the Grimes family pulled in a couple of deep breaths to compose themselves. 

         “Now”, Jim picked up again. “Why don’t you want Daryl to stay with us?”

         “I do!” Rick ran both hands through his curls, while his parents stared at him with their mouth gaped open. 

         “Then why”, Catherine threw her hands helplessly into the air, “why did you say ‘no’ when we suggested for him to stay?”

         “Because I know how you are, mom. Saw what you did the past week.”

         “What did I do?” she said defensively. “I took care of an injured boy.”

         “No, you hovered over him and pampered him around the clock, just like you did with Jeff. But Daryl is not Jeffrey, mom! You don’t wanna take him in to give him a home, you just need a new toy.”

Catherine gasped audibly.

         “That is not true”, she croaked out. “He needs our help. And what’s wrong about … wanting to be needed?”

         “Dad and I, we would have needed you, too! But your world revolved around Jeff alone until you forgot we were even there.”

         “Rick”, Jim warned when he noticed his wife’s shocked expression. But then he added cautiously:   
“The boy’s got a point, darling. Why do you think I work so much? When you didn’t see me anymore …”

         “What about me?” Rick said to him. “You both lived your own lives and I was all alone. And now … Daryl … Daryl means a lot to me. He … he filled that emptiness and I really want him to stay with us. But you’re trying to take him away from me, mom. You’re trying to find a substitute for Jeffrey, but … if you wanna do this, you need to do it for Daryl, not yourself.”

Tears pooled in Catherine’s eyes the next moment.

         “All these months … years and I … I had no idea. We never talked about this. I’m so sorry … I …”

Jim pulled his wife into this arms and ran a hand soothingly over her hair.

         “And we’re not talking about it now to put the blame on someone, Cath. I made mistakes, too.”    
He cast his son a glance.   
         “Let’s just try to work it out and do better from now on, whadda you say, family?”   
He held his arm out to his son and pulled the boy into the embrace, too.    
         “We’re in this together, but we forgot to share our problems, help each other. But right now we have someone else to think of.”

He pulled back and looked from Catherine to Rick and back. 

         “And that someone’s in the dining room all by himself and probably misunderstood your reaction, Rick.”

The teenager grew pale. 

         “Shit”, he muttered before turning on his heels and running out of the room.

Just as Catherine opened her mouth to comment on the use of the s-word, her husband added:  
          
         “You can say that again.”

Then he followed his son, Cathy by his side. 

 

         “Daryl?” 

Rick’s voice echoed through the empty dining room and the adjoining family room. 

         “Daryl?!” he yelled out into the hallway, so it would be heard upstairs, too, but there was no reply.    
         “I can’t find him”, he said to his parents when they came into the family room. 

         “Maybe he’s not answering, because he’s …” Jim started, but then couldn’t find the right word.    
Angry? Disappointed? Hurt? Sad? Stubborn? Whichever applied, they had to find Daryl.   
         “Let’s search the house. Rick, go upstairs. Cath, you gonna look down here. I’ll take the basement.”

That said they spread out and looked in every possible corner of the house. Maybe Daryl just needed some time out, didn’t feel like talking and thus had retracted somewhere and wasn’t answering their calls deliberately. Maybe.    
When they met again in the hallway five minutes later the ‘maybe’ had turned into an ‘unlikely’. 

         “He’s gone”, Rick dared say what they were all thinking. “He left.” 

Agitation clearly peppered his inflection and his mother’s worried comment   
         “I don’t see a jacket missing”,    
didn’t help the matter at all.

         “He wasn’t wearing one when he came here”, Jim pointed out. 

         “And that’s how he ended up with hypothermia”, Catherine replied, her voice high-pitched now. “And it grew even colder these past days. We gotta find him, Jim.”

         “I know where he is”, Rick said flatly.

His father instantly grabbed the car keys from a nearby key box and walked to the hallway closet to get his coat.

         “Alright, let’s go then”, he called over his shoulder to his son and stopped dead in his tracks, when Rick wouldn’t move a muscle.

         “Dad, it’s in the woods. You can’t drive there.”

Jim shrugged and put the keys in his pocket.

         “Fine, then we’ll walk.”

         “No.” Rick shook his head determinedly. “It’s … sorry, but that’s our secret hiding place. It’s … it’s … it’s very special and I’m not taking anyone there.”  
          
Jim’s face became a stony façade. 

         “Rick, this is not the time for childish …”

         “It’s not childish. It’s … Just lemme go alone, okay, dad?”

         “It’s most certainly not okay”, Catherine cut in, but her husband’s soothing gesture had her fall quiet. 

Suddenly calm, Jim Grimes gave his son a scrutiny and started to understand. 

         “This is not just about the place, right? You think it was your fault that Daryl left and you need to clear this up with him in private, is that it?”

Rick pressed his lips together and nodded wordlessly. 

         “Alright”, the man said after a moment of consideration. 

         “Jim! What if they need help out there? Rick said there is no cell phone service in those woods ...”    
She furrowed her brows.   
         “Makes you think, doesn’t it? This is a forest in Pennsylvania, United States and not the middle of the rainforest, good Lord. I’m gonna write a complaint to the company that …”

         “Catherine! Focus.”

         “Right. So, what if …”

Rick was already at the door, wearing one jacket and holding a second one in his hand.

         “He cannot be out there long, mom. And like you said, this is Pennsylvania, not the northpole. I’ll find him and bring him back. If I’m not back in three hours you can call the national guard.”

         “I will!” she replied, but the teenager had already pulled the door close behind him.    
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you feel inclined to demand Rick's head on a silver platter (or rather mine) - have mercy on both of us. We'll make up for moooore problems and heartaches next chapter. :-)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halftime!  
> I'd like to thank each and every one of you wonderful people, who've read this story so far and left kudos, lots of great comments and bookmarked it to let me know that you like it.  
> This story has become my "baby", my first TWD AU and I spent months, including my vacation time this year, in the woods of Pennsylvania so to speak, LOL, writing like a woman possessed. I'm happy it was worthwhile.  
> By the way, I really don't mind if you recommand it to others. Honestly. LOL 
> 
> Thanks again to my beta staceykc, who helped find my typos and other errors and my friend and "test reader" Barbie, who's a merciless critic and asks just the right questions.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy the second half of the story, too!

The cave! Daryl had got to be there.    
Rick walked faster than he had ever done before and once in a while his pace came close to running. He started to sweat, wondering if it was his warm jacket alone that was causing this.    
There it was again – the dark, sinister feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Each time he had felt it lately, it had been the sign of something bad happening to his friend, of Daryl having been hurt. And now it was back.   
What had happened? Or was something happening right now while Rick hurried through the woods, eager to find him?    
He couldn’t help recalling his earlier fear. The fear that Daryl may come to the conclusion that he had nothing worth living for and that he may give up the fight. Maybe Rick had pushed him over the edge, had taken away the only hope his friend had still had, so Daryl may have come out here to …

         “I didn’t mean it!” Rick yelled into the woods, while he started to run. “You misunderstood! Daryl!!”

He was panting heavily after a while and his knees turned to jelly, but he kept on running.

         “Daryl!! Please!” 

The cave was close now and a moment later the boy pushed the plastic sheet aside and stumbled into the stony room beyond.   
He looked around himself frantically and his heart sank – Daryl wasn’t there.   
And from the looks of it he hadn’t been here for quite a while. The supplies that still sat neatly stacked to one side had gathered dust and the warm clothes and sleeping bag hadn’t been touched. 

Rick pulled out his hanky to wipe his sweaty face, but tears pooled in his eyes instantly when he noticed the blood stains in the blue fabric. Blood. Daryl’s blood.    
The knot in his stomach turned from an uneasy to a painful feeling. 

         “Where are you?” he said into the empty room. “Don’t do anything stupid. God, please … I didn’t mean it.”    
He headed to the exit and a moment later stood in front of the cave looking around himself helplessly.    
“I didn’t mean it”, he sobbed. 

In a sudden impulse he turned on his heels and started running again. The lake!    
It was the only other _special_ place he could think of. In fact, it was way more special than the cave – it was the place they first met, the place they became friends, had spent the entire summer, had fun together, shared their sorrows, went fishing …   
It was the place Daryl had run to long before he had met Rick and hopefully it was still his refuge, his favorite spot in the world. 

When Rick came out of the woods and stepped onto the clearing he saw the huddled figure instantly and let out a sigh of relief.    
He approached Daryl, surprised that the archer wasn’t reacting at all. He must have heard him – the way Rick stumbled towards his friend, still wheezing, surely didn’t go unnoticed. But apparently Daryl was able to recognize him by sound and wasn’t alarmed – or he just didn’t care. 

He sat with his legs drawn up, hugging his knees and gently swaying in the crisp wind. He had placed his forehead on his arms and seemed to have frozen in that position, the only noticeable movement his fitful breathing and the trembling he had no control of. 

         “Daryl?” Rick said softly, but there was no reaction whatsoever. “Daryl, please, I …”

         “Ya shouldn’t ‘ve come.” 

         “I had to. – Can we talk?”

He heard the chattering of Daryl’s teeth, before the older boy replied:

         “Ya said all ya hadda say, I think. And I understand. No need ta explain.”

         “No, you _don’t_ understand. And you totally misunderstood.”    
Rick stood right behind Daryl’s back now.   
         “Just hear me out, please.” 

Again there was no reply, but Rick saw his friend give one of his barely visible nods, which was all the answer he needed.   
He hesitated just a moment, then he opened the zipper of his jacket and, kneeling behind Daryl with his legs on either side of his friend, wrapped the warm and soft material around him. Gently he pulled the other boy into this arms, careful not to apply too much pressure to the still healing wounds on Daryl’s back, and closed his eyes in relief the next moment when Daryl was leaning against his chest, alive and safe in his embrace. 

When he felt Rick lower himself to the ground behind his back and arms reaching around him, Daryl’s instinctive reaction was to fight him off, but he never moved a muscle.   
Daryl had given up the fight. If no one wanted him, why should he still stay at all? What was the point? Why even try?    
He was tired of struggling, tired of going from one painful day to the next, tired of hoping for a better life and then being disappointed time and again.    
Merle had let him down often enough. And now Rick had, too. Daryl wasn’t too surprised as far as his brother was concerned, but Rick … Rick was different, Rick was special, Rick was _everything._ At least he had been until the moment a single ‘no’ had made Daryl’s world crumble.    
It was cold out here, there was the lake, he had his knife … One way or the other he’d leave today. He just hadn’t made up his mind yet, hadn’t found the courage.    
Why did Rick have to come?    
He should just leave him be, go back to his beautiful home and his parents, his own world and forget about Daryl and the summer when he had called a worthless poor boy from _Terminus ‘_ friend’.    
Rick pulled him closer now, wrapped his arms and the jacket firmly around him and the warmth radiating off the younger boy’s body seeped through the fabric of Daryl’s sweater and warmed him to the core.    
A single tear ran down his cheek.   
The lake was the place he loved most, where he felt at peace like nowhere else. He had wanted to die here, meant to take that peace with him. But now …   
This embrace, Rick’s body pressed against him … It felt so good that all Daryl really wanted to do was to sit like this forever. But no doubt it would end any second now, so why did Rick come here? Why was he doing this to him?

He started to struggle against the embrace half-heartedly, but with a soothing hush Rick tightened his arms around his friend.

         “It’s cold, Daryl. Stay. You gonna get hypothermic again.”

         “Maybe that’s the plan.”

He heard Rick suck in the air.

         “Why?” he croaked out.

         “‘cause there‘s only one place I can go where no one‘s gonna tell me they don’t want me there. I hope.”          

There was a terrible raspy sensation in the back of Rick’s throat suddenly and he swallowed against it several times.    
The sinister feeling hadn’t betrayed him. Daryl had come out here to leave, to find peace – eternal peace – and the mere thought of what he would have found here, if he had come too late, choked Rick.

         “There’s another place”, he said in a quivering voice. “You misunderstood.”

         “What’s ta misunderstand in a ‘no’, Rick?”

         “I wasn’t saying ‘no’ to _you_. I came to _Terminus_ the other day to get you out, so why would I …”

Daryl’s snort stopped him.

         “Ya wanted ta get me out alright, but ya never suggested yer own home for me ta stay. ‘n’ now that yer pa offered it, yer afraid I’s gonna take yer parents away from ya after ya just got ‘em to yerself for the first time ever.”

Rick pulled in a deep breath to disagree, but Daryl continued without giving him a chance to speak.

         “Told ya I ain’t stealin’ nothin’. Didn’t take a thing from yer house ‘n’ I ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout stealin’ yer mom ‘n’ pa, either. I just wanted a place, Rick. Just one goddamn spot in this world where I’s allowed ta _live._ ”   
A shiver ran through his body despite the embrace and the warm jacket wrapped around him and instinctively, Rick tightened the hug once more.   
         “That ain’t livin’ in _Terminus,_ ‘s existin’. No more. Can’t do this no longer. Don’t wanna.” 

With a violently throbbing heart Rick buried his face on Daryl’s neck all of a sudden, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill his eyes.    
He felt the strong and accelerated heartbeat in Daryl’s carotid against the tip of his nose and indulged in the feeling for a moment, thanking the higher forces above that he’d been in time.

         “You misunderstood”, he repeated softly. “It wasn’t about _you_ stealing anything or rather anyone – it was about _her._ She took one brother away from me, she’s not gonna take the other one, too.” 

Surprised Daryl craned his neck to look at Rick, but the younger boy wouldn’t meet his eyes. He just held him close, his face still hidden in the crock of his friend’s neck, trying to still his racing heartbeat. 

         “Listen up”, he whispered to the archer. “I’ll tell you how it is.” 

And then he repeated to Daryl what he had told his parents. About his loneliness and the way his parents and him had been drifting in a vacuum with his brother as their only fix star, doomed to a lonely orbit around Jeffrey, while their paths never crossed.

         “I remember birthdays when I was blowing out the candles on my cake and when I looked up, they hadn’t even watched. Not even on a special day like that it was about me.”

         “Yeah? They were there, they remembered the date and they had a cake 'n' candles, man. Probably a pile a' presents, too, and a party with friends 'n' family.”

A frown flashed over Rick’s face.

         “Yes, but …”

         “No ‘but’. They cared enough in all of ‘em sorrow ta organize parties ‘n’ get ya presents – ta make ya happy. Ya ain’t doin’ that for people ya don’t love, so what more d’ya want?”

         “Time. Theirs – and my brother’s. My mom … she … she wanted the best of care for him, but no one was ever good enough. No one but her. But … Jeff … he was my big brother, Daryl. I would have liked to help taking care of him, but she used to say I’d do it wrong, would hurt him or something. I never got to spend some real quality time with him. Never snuggled up during a thunderstorm …”

Daryl’s craned his head again and this time they looked each other deep in the eyes. 

         “May not sound like much”, Rick whispered to him, “and Merle may not be the best big brother in the world, but still you had moments like that with him. Means more than you think. When Jeff died he was still a stranger and I barely ever got to touch him, spend time with him, be a brother.”

His eyes turned cold all of a sudden.

         “And now she’s trying to do it again. Is trying to replace Jeff with you.”

         “I ain’t retarded”, Daryl said matter-of-factly.

         “Don’t say that.” Rick sat up and pulled back a little. “Jeff wasn’t retarded and, please, you can’t use that word around my parents.”

Daryl lowered his eyes.

         “Sorry. Ma pa says it all the time. Called me retarded for droppin’ things when I’s li’l, called ma momma _a retarded bitch_ for smokin’ in bed ‘n’ settin’ the house on fire, called Merle retarded for gettin’ caught stealin’ ‘n’ goin’ ta juvi ...”

         “Then you know it’s an insult.”

         “Yer right. ‘m sorry. ‘s just hard ta figure out what’s okay ta say and what ain’t, growin’ up with someone like ma pa.”

Rick sighed.

         “Forget about that bastard. You’re not going back to him.” – “Are you?” he asked cautiously. 

When Daryl didn’t answer, panic started to rise inside the younger boy again. His friend couldn’t seriously consider going back to that monster of a father. Was he maybe still thinking about … _leaving_?

         “Please, Daryl, come home with me. I know it’s all pretty much a mess, but … I promised you we’d work it out. And we will.” 

         “Gimme a moment ta think about it”, the older boy muttered, before he fell quiet and sat motionless in his friends embrace.

He didn’t need a moment to think about it. In fact, he didn’t need one single second – he had already made up his mind. But Rick sitting so close behind him, his arms wrapped around him and holding him tight felt so good, that he wanted to indulge in that feeling for as long as possible.    
While the seconds turned into minutes, Daryl grew calmer and more confident of his resolution, while Rick’s nervousness increased with every moment that passed in silence.    
What was it Daryl had to ponder on for so long? He couldn’t seriously consider going back instead of staying with the Grimes, so maybe he wasn’t weighing those two possibilities, but trying to decide if he wanted to give _living_ another chance at all.

In an impulse Rick turned his head a little and placed a gentle kiss on Daryl’s hair. 

         “I know I let you down when you came for help, but … gimme a chance to make it up to you.”

The archer’s pulse had picked up again when he felt Rick place a kiss on his hair. He couldn’t remember anyone ever kissing him, and although Rick’s lips hadn’t even touched his skin, Daryl felt tingly all over.   
Then the younger boy’s words registered suddenly.

         “Ya didn’t let me down.” Daryl turned his head and cast a look over his shoulder. “I ain’t blamin’ ya for not hearin’ me that night. ‘twasn’t yer fault.”

         “Yeah, it was”, Rick said sadly. “I told you the door was always open when you needed me – and then it was not.” 

Daryl couldn’t help frowning.

         “Man, if people tell ya the door was always open, that’s symbolic. Don’t mean they ain’t lockin’ their house at night, ya twerp. You, yer folks ‘n’ the doc … ya all went outta yer way ta help me. Can’t thank ya enough. ‘s just … I don’t see why ya even bother.”

         “What’s that supposed to mean?”

         “It means I ain’t got no clue why ya even here. I ain’t cool, I ain’t got no fancy stuff like the boys at yer school ‘n’ I’m a wuss, who can’t even stand up to his ol’ man. I ain’t worth it.” 

It was Rick frowning now.

         “You survived that man for seventeen years, Daryl. How’s that being a wuss? And as for being worth it – you could have turned into another Tomas or Negan, but you … you are _you._ Someone who made my mom smile for the first time in months the moment she met you. Someone who earned my dad’s trust and respect in only few days and believe me, that doesn’t happen often. Someone who takes the little neighbor boy trick-or-treating and gathers tons of beechnuts for that family. I … I …”

There was so much he wanted to tell his friends, but words failed him all of a sudden. How was he to put in words that Daryl had changed his world – the way he felt, his point of view, the things he valued. Rick wasn’t the person anymore he’d been only few months ago and he liked to think that change was for the better. And it all was thanks to Daryl. 

         “You _are_ worth it”, he just whispered into his friend’s ear in the end. 

They sat like that for a moment longer, than Rick said with a frown:

         “So that’s why you barely dared look at me all week? Because you thought I was looking down on you?”

Wordlessly Daryl just nodded. Then he replied:

         “And ya didn’t talk ta me ‘cause ya felt guilty?”

         “Uh-huh.”

         “Pff, man, we really need ta work on our communication.” 

Another moment passed in silence, then simultaneously they started to chuckle.   
         It was a relieved laughter, because now that they had shared their sorrows, they knew that they would find a solution. Together.    
They would have a future, together, a life. Nothing else mattered. 

         “Ma balls are freezin’.”

Rick laughed even louder.

         “Thanks for letting me know. Same here, by the way.”

         “See, knew we had things in common.” With a grin he nudged Rick gently. “If the offer still stands, ‘m gonna go back with ya.” 

Instead of an answer, Rick hugged the other boy close with a relieved sigh and then released him to get up. He held out a hand to pull Daryl off the ground and then, after picking it up, handed him the second jacket he had brought.    
It was quiet, save for the wind playing with the dry leaves on the ground, while Daryl’s questioning gaze rested on Rick’s face. He didn’t have to ask out loud – the younger boy knew how the question would run.

         _“What was that wrappin’ the both of us in yer jacket all about, if ya got a second one?”_

And Rick’s candid look accompanied by a somewhat shy smile was all the answer Daryl needed.    
The archer pulled his friend into another hug in a sudden need for physical contact he had never known before.

         “Thanks”, he breathed to the younger boy. “Ya saved ma life.” 

         “ Got kinda used to your ugly mug”, Rick whispered back with a smile, repeating Daryl’s words from the night in the cave.

The night they had snuggled up during a thunderstorm. It dawned on Rick in right that moment that after only few months Daryl Dixon was closer to him than his own brother had been in all his life.

 

*******

 

They walked back side by side, both of them well able to find the way from the lake to _Hilltop_ with their eyes closed by now. 

Shortly before they left the woods, Rick asked unexpectedly:

         “What happened?” It may not have been the best idea to bring this up, but he had to know.   
         “I mean, why … why did your father …”

         “Think he ever needed a reason?” Daryl snapped.

         “No, I guess not. But … _this_ … He must have been furious and … that wasn’t just about the fridge being empty or something, right?”

The archer stopped dead in his tracks and sighed audibly.

         “What’s it to ya? It happened. Ain’t makin’ no difference whether ya know why or not.”   
          
         “It makes a difference to me.”

         “Why? ‘cause ya wanna understand? ‘cause ya think the thought’s easier ta bear if there’s a _reason_ , an explanation? ‘cause ya can’t get it into yer head that there’s people doin’ stuff like that just ‘cause they can?”

Rick thought about that for a moment, then he nodded. Daryl raised his eyebrows and barely visible shook his head.

         “Ya musta been growin’ up on the dark side a’ the moon ta think everythin’ happened for a reason. But if it makes ya feel better – there _was_ a reason for ma ol’ man ta go ballistic.”

With a deep sigh Daryl started walking again and Rick fell in beside him instantly. 

         “Tomas … That stupid ass musta thought ma pa wasn’t home. He came into our trailer ‘n’ wanted information – yer name ‘n’ address ‘n’ stuff. Guess yer bike wasn’t enough.”

He cast Rick a side glance and noticed the younger boy’s eyes widen. Apparently he really had not understood what kind of danger he had put himself and his family in by showing up in _Terminus,_ what sort of landslide he had set off. 

         “When ma ol’ man showed up, Tomas couldn’t just back out, so I guess he thought offense was the best defense. Said ma pa would owe him, ‘cause a’ Merle tryin’ ta rob him ‘n’ all. Said I’s havin’ rich friends now ‘n’ he wanted his share for the trouble Merle caused. Shit like that.”   
Daryl bit his thumbnail when the recollection of that night grew more and more unpleasant.   
         “No one threatens Will Dixon in his own home”, Daryl said in a choked voice. “Let’s just say Tomas ain’t gonna be our problem no more – he’s gonna have his dinner through a straw for a long time.”

Rick’s eyes had grown as large as saucers.

         “Isn’t he gonna press charges for …?”

Daryl’s bitter snort stopped him in midsentence.

         “Ya don’t call the cops if yer livin’ in _Terminus._ ‘s like wakin’ sleepin’ dogs. Once they’re there, whadda ya think what else they gonna find? Or who? Nah, what happens in _Terminus,_ stays in _Terminus_ or ya ain’t got no prayer no longer.” 

         “But”, Rick said with a confused frown, “ _you_ didn’t do anything wrong. Tomas coming into your trailer wasn’t your fault, so why …”

         “’cause I wouldn’t tell him. When ma pa asked me ‘bout ya, I … I … Ain’t never gonna tell no one ‘bout ya or yer folks.”

He fell quiet while Rick grew as white as a sheet. 

         “It was my fault”, the younger boy croaked, but before he could say any more, Daryl’s hand on his shoulder and a stern glance had him fall quiet.

         “Stop that, will ya? Ain’t helpin’ no one, if ya keep blamin’ yerself. Ya meant well when ya came ta _Terminus_ ‘n’ I did what I hadda do. The rest is ma father’s fault ‘n’ Tomas’. End a’ story.” 

Silently they resumed their walk to the Grimes’ house. They both knew this was far from being the end of the story. 

 

The moment they approached the house, the front door was pulled open and Catherine and Jim appeared in the doorway. No doubt they had probably stared out of the front window, waiting, ever since Rick had left the house. 

         “Thank God”, Catherine exclaimed and darted through the front yard, not caring that she was in her slippers, and pulled both boys into a hug simultaneously. 

         “Just so you know”, Jim teased behind her back, “five more minutes and she _would_ have called the national guard.”         

The woman let go of the two teenagers and shot her husband a scowl. 

         “You’re exaggerating and you know it.”

          “True. – Ten minutes.“

          “Ah, shut up, Jim Grimes”, she chided, before she marched back into the house.

Jim looked after her with a smirk and then winked at the two teenagers, who were visibly amused about the exchange.

         “Glad to see you two back safe and well”, the man said honestly and then gestured for them to come inside. 

He tried to sound nonchalant, but something in his expression and his words made it clear that he was playing it down. Jim had been worried, too, and Daryl felt both moved and embarrassed about people caring so much for him all of a sudden. That was entirely new to him.

It was past noon now and Daryl felt an unknown fatigue wash over him. He hadn’t slept too well the previous night, tossing and turning and worrying about being send back to his father or any other unknown place soon. And then breakfast hadn’t really taken place, so he was both tired and hungry and wouldn’t have minded something to eat and a nap – in that order.    
While they were walking down the hallway after taking their jackets and shoes off, Rick cast his friend a quick side glance and the dark circles under his eyes as well as the growling of his stomach didn’t go unnoticed. It didn’t take the ability to read minds to know what Daryl needed. 

         “Something to eat, _no_ tea and a warm bed?” Rick asked unexpectedly and smiled about Daryl’s rapturous expression. 

         “Ya gettin’ three yeses ‘n’ ya didn’t even sing or nothin’.”

Rick couldn’t help laughing.

         “Yeah, ‘cause Rick Grimes got no talent, for nothing.”

         “I doubt that. Everybody’s got something they’re good at.”

         “Think so? Whadda you think I was good at? I can’t sing, I can’t write stories, I can’t draw, I …”

         “Savin’ me”, Daryl cut in seriously. “That’s what ya definitely good at.”

Rick swallowed thickly against a lump in his throat.  
          
         “I hope so.”

         “Ya already did. More than once. ‘m still here, right?”

A smile played around Rick’s lips and he wrapped his arm around Daryl’s shoulder. 

         “Yes, you are. And I want you to stay, you hear me?”

         “I’ll see what I can do”, the older boy said cryptically, but Rick thought he saw a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

 

Jim and Catherine joined the boys for what was lunch rather than breakfast now and for the next half hour all four of them ate in silence.   
It was a sort of awkward silence, because they all knew there were lots of things they had to talk about, but neither knew how to start. The three Grimes still had their past and mistakes that were made in that past to clear up, but this was hardly the right moment. They were about to add a fourth person to this family, while the other three were still on shaky ground, and that particular fourth person brought his own problems along.    
There sure was lots of clearing up to do, but for now it wasn’t hurt feelings and all their fears, worries and heartaches to talk about. Much simpler topics clearly were a priority. 

         “Catherine”, Jim said cautiously into the stillness of the dining room, “since Daryl decided to stay, he’ll need a room.” 

He let that statement stand without a further comment and waited. Cathy’s gasp the next second confirmed that she had caught on, but before she even had a chance to protest, Jim picked up again.

         “Cath, please. That room up there was never Jeffrey’s – you just moved his things in there, that’s all.”

         “There’s still an extra room”, she croaked hesitatingly. “And the attic. We could always …”

         “Catherine Grimes”, Jim’s voice was stern now. “That extra room and the attic are not even renovated. We never had that room painted or carpet put in and we’d have to fit out the attic for anyone to live there. This boy needs a room _now.”_

          “Mr. G”, Daryl cut in softly, “I ain’t needin’ no nice room or nothin’ with carpet ‘n’ all. I can …”

         “Yes, you do”, Jim said determinedly. “We have a fully renovated and furnished room up there, but nobody lives in it.”   
He turned to his wife and dipped his head to look her in the eyes, while she kept staring at her plate.   
         “Cathy. Jeff’s not coming back, darling. You can keep his things and I promise I will have that extra room renovated for them, if you want that, but our boy doesn’t need that room up there. Daryl does though.”

A single tear ran down her cheek, then she nodded and straightened up determinedly.  
          
         “You’re right.” She cast Daryl a shaky little smile. “You are welcome to stay in that room, Daryl. We’ll move Jeff’s things out of it later.”

The archer was squirming now and looked downright uncomfortable. 

         “Don’t mean ta cause no trouble. Know this ‘s important to ya ‘n’ …”

         “And so are you”, she said insistantly. “It’s settled.”

         “Thanks.”

The gratitude was expressed softly, but with the most sincere inflection either of the three Grimes had ever heard anyone say ‘thank you’.   
         

When Rick came into Daryl’s new room an hour later, he found his friend standing in the middle of it, looking around himself with wide eyes. It was an odd interior, that much was certain.    
A queen size bed sat underneath the window, covered by a clearly hand-made quilt in various hues of blue. A couple of plushies sat lined up against the headboard, there was a Mickey Mouse bedside lamp and a box of Legos sitting in a corner. The walls were covered with posters of various celebrities as well as the mascot of Rick’s high school in Trenton.   
This could have been the room of a little boy as well as that of a teenager. It was the weirdest mix Daryl had ever come across.

Rick noticed the look on his face and took a look around himself.

         “The room grew around him”, he sat flatly. “While Jeff remained the same year after year, mentally, my mom added things according to his age, but never removed the old stuff. This is why there’s Mickey Mouse next to the Transformers and comic books next to the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”  
He sighed.  
         “Jeff never knew the peeps on those posters, never went to school, never read any of those books, but my mom figured he’d like it. Somehow she always thought he was able to understand what was going on around him, and who knows … maybe he was.”  
          
         “Yeah, maybe. ‘s a nice thought yer mom had there. But this ain’t really his room, so …”

         “It’s a one-to-one copy of the one we had in Trenton. Every plushie, every Lego – she brought it all along. I bet, if he was still alive, she would have added college stuff soon.”

Daryl sank onto the edge of the bed and let his hand run over the quilt. Before he was able to say anything, Rick added:

         “My mom made that quilt when she was pregnant with Jeffrey. I heard that story a gazillion times, how she would sew while he was kicking her as though he couldn’t wait to see it.”

Rick rolled his eyes, but he didn’t really look irritated. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that this story had always touched him. He liked to picture his mom, her younger self, sitting in her favorite recliner and sewing with a smile on her face, looking forward to welcome his big brother into the family.   
How many hopes and dreams and wishes she probably had back then and all of them seeped into this quilt with each stitch, each new piece of fabric and inch of thread. And then all these hopes and dreams crashed, but the echo of that happy and magical time would be preserved in this quilt for as long as it existed. 

         “’s very pretty. Musta been lots a’ work.”

         “It’s very special to her, so don’t be cross with her if she takes it away along with the rest of Jeff’s stuff.”

Daryl cast him a surprised glance.  
          
         “Why would I be cross with her? Ain’t ma stuff here – she’s got the right ta take it all away. ‘specially somethin’ as precious as this.”

He yawned audibly and stood to take the quilt off the bed. He really needed some sleep now.

         “Bed’s even made”, he said with a surprised air and Rick replied with a shrug:

         “Yup. My mom put fresh linens on it every week, although no one ever slept in it.”

         “Glad she did”, Daryl said, while he ran a hand over the clean, fluffy pillow. “Think ‘m gonna fall asleep standin’ up any second.” 

With a soft chuckle Rick acknowledge that and turned on his heels to leave so Daryl could get some rest, but the older boy’s voice behind his back stopped him.

         “That yer room over there?” Daryl ask, pointing to a door to the side of the room.

         “No, bathroom. It’s a connecting room between our two rooms though and we have to share. Sorry about that.” 

         “Yer kiddin’ me? Ma pa’s trailer had a bathroom that’d fit into yer closet ‘n’ I hadda share it with him ‘n’ Merle. ‘Twasn’t pretty, I can tell ya that.”

Rick started laughing.

         “Sharing a bathroom with me is not pretty, either. Wait till you have to go in after I dropped my morning deuce.”

It was Daryl rolling his eyes now.

         “Jeez, Rick, ya don’t have ta say stuff like that ta make me feel more at home.”

Even while he was talking he had taken his pants, sweater and socks off and crawled under the covers in his boxers and t-shirt now, giving a relieved sigh the moment his head touched the pillow. 

         “One a’ the best feelin’s in the world – layin’ down when ya really pooped.” 

_          “I could think of a better one”,  _ Rick thought and gritted his teeth. _“Like finding your best friend alive after you’ve feared the worst.”_

Slowly the younger boy walked over to the bed and lowered himself to the edge.   
Daryl had snuggled up under the covers and his eyes kept drooping shut, but when he noticed the look on Rick’s face he forced them back open.

         “What?” he asked softly.

For a long moment Rick just stared at him and something in the azure blue depths alarmed Daryl.  
                    
         “Yer alright?”

         “Daryl …” Rick hesitated. “Did you … I mean, would you really have … Were you seriously thinking about …”

         “Yeah”, Daryl said gravely when he caught on. “I’s thinkin' ‘bout it. Dunno if I’d have the balls ta do it though. ‘s like I said – ‘m a pussy.”  

Rick swallowed hard against the raspy sensation in his throat and was unable to say but a single word. He had almost lost Daryl. Twice. And the mere thought of a life without his friend hurt him so profoundly that tears pooled in his eyes all of a sudden. They didn’t go unnoticed.

         “Hey”, Daryl said gently, while his hand snaked out from under the covers and came to rest on Rick’s knee.    
         “I’m here. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere. ‘kay?”

         “Promise?”

Shadow blue eyes looked at him for several heartbeats, while Rick could almost hear the little wheels in Daryl’s head turn. Then the older boy barely visible shook his head.  
          
         “Can’t promise ya nothin’, Rick.”

         “You can’t or you won’t?” 

         “Can’t. Ain’t up to me. Never was.”    
He pressed his lips together for a second before he added:   
         “He’s gonna look for me.”

         “Who? Your dad?”

         “Nah, the pope. Man, ‘course ma pa. Not ‘cause he cared or nothin’, but ‘cause I’s the one supplyin’ for him. He don’t want me, but he needs me. I’m his henchman, his property – he ain’t gonna let me go. Ever.” 

Rick heard the agitation in Daryl’s inflection and placed a gentle hand on the other boys shoulder.

         “He’s not gonna find you here. And he can’t go to the police.”

         “Ya don’t know him. Ya got no idea what he can do.”

There was a quiver in his voice although he tried to hide it, and the way he dug deeper under the covers showed that he was genuinely scared.    
And after seeing what Will Dixon did to his son simply for not getting an answer to his question, gave Rick an idea what was in store for Daryl, if his father ever found him, now that he had run off and dared quit his job as a supplier.    
A cold shiver ran down the younger boy’s spine. How could Daryl possibly ever be safe? That man’s fury probably knew no limits and with each passing day it was likely to grow fiercer. Rick understood Daryl’s fear, because he felt it, too.

Without giving it a second thought, the younger boy lifted the covers and slipped into  bed next to Daryl. 

         “There a thunderstorm, bro?” the archer asked softly.

         “Worse”, Rick replied and that was all he said. 

He knew that Daryl would understand.

Rick had worried for his friend’s life once that day, he couldn’t deal with a new threat, a new possibility of losing Daryl. He needed the contact right now, had to feel him close by and he knew that the older boy felt just the same by the way Daryl didn’t move away or tell him to ‘get the hell outta his bed’. On the contrary.    
He inched closer until their shoulders and thighs touched, as well as the back of their hands.    
For a moment they lay motionless and quiet side by side, then Rick’s fingers came to life one by one and started to playfully nudge Daryl’s. There was an instant reaction as index finger touched index finger and ran tenderly over the skin of its counterpart. The middle and ring fingers joined into the sensual dance, gently nudging and caressing, shortly before the pinkies got involved and ended up being hooked into each other.   
Daryl let his head roll to the side until it rested against Rick’s, his long straight strands of hair mixing with the other boy’s curls. In the same moment Rick ended the game their fingers were engaged in by taking Daryl’s hand in his and interlacing those fingers. 

         “Jus’ want ya ta know”, the older boy slurred, fatigue now clearly getting the better of him. “Whatever’s gonna happen – the past four months was the best a’ ma life.” 

Before Rick had a chance to reply, Daryl’s deep and even breathing next to his ear indicated that his friend had fallen asleep.

Rick gave the hand he was still holding a light squeeze. 

         “Yeah, of mine too”, he whispered.   
 


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks passed in which Daryl barely ever left the house. He felt both safe and trapped, but he needed the time to heal and come to terms with his new life.   
What scared him the most wasn’t his father finding him, even though Will was likely to kill him for causing all that trouble. What Daryl feared more than anything was losing Rick and this family. He had never known separation anxiety, but now he did.   
He didn’t care about the food that was always there now, the new clothes Jim and Cathy had bought for him or the room he had all to himself. All that was nice, but although a full stomach and more than rags on his body felt great, it was just _things._ They definitely mattered only half as much as having people here now who cared about him. Who laughed with him and not at him, who were happy when they saw him, appreciated his opinion and listened to what he had to say – all that was like a dream and Daryl was afraid to wake up any moment and find himself in that filthy, little trailer with his father again. 

The day after he had moved in with the Grimes, Cathy had cleared Jeffrey’s things out of what now was officially Daryl’s room and had taken everything into the unused room.    
So far she hadn’t said anything about wanting it renovated to rebuild the shrine for her dead son. His things were sitting there, neatly packed in several boxes, and once in a while Catherine would disappear into that room when she thought nobody would notice. But she never stayed in there for long and there were no more tears when she emerged, so there was some kind of improvement.   
After Jeffrey’s things had been removed, Daryl’s room looked almost empty. The furniture was still there, but there were no decorations, no personal belongings. Even if Daryl had brought the things he owned with him, the room would still have looked empty. All he had had was the crossbow and even that was lost now.   
Jim had offered to get him his own TV and stereo, but Daryl had declined. He was embarrassed to the core as it was to be dependant on these people’s help, and there was no way he was going to let them shower him with luxury goods he didn’t need, didn’t deserve.    
If he felt like watching TV at all, he would go over to Rick’s room and watch together with his friend, but in most cases they ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder on Rick’s couch just talking or sharing the headphones of his cell to listen to music or playing a hand of cards.    
Their latest addiction was going down into the basement for a ping-pong match. Rick was an excellent ping-pong player and beat the older boy time and again, so Daryl had his mind set on winning against him one of these days. One had to have goals in life.    
The only thing Daryl had accepted as _decoration_ for his room were a couple of books.    
Jim’s study was furnished with shelves that reached as high as the ceiling and next to countless law books there were all the classic novels Daryl had heard about, but never read. _Moby Dick, Oliver Twist, Robinson Crusoe, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, 20.000 leagues under the sea_ and so on, and so forth. Some of these books appeared to be rather old and Jim had told him that some were from when he was a child or even from his father’s childhood.    
They were gems that had been in the family for decades and still Rick’s father had let Daryl borrow them. 

         “I know you’re gonna be careful with them”, he had said and his inflection hadn’t carried the least warning or concern. 

He really trusted the teenager to handle these books like raw eggs and the archer did. No one had ever entrusted something of value to him and he wasn’t going to disappoint Jim’s trust.    
Aside of that, Daryl loved books. They were a door into another world, a way out of reality, a place full of magic and adventures that would take his mind off all his worries and fears for a while. And once in a while there was someone in these stories he could relate to, because they were little better off than he was. Someone who had their own hardship to deal with and problems to solve, who would despair at times and cry and yet most of these books had a happy ending nevertheless.    
It had always given Daryl hope that one day his own story would have a happy ending, too. 

Although he missed being outside, missed roaming the woods, the wind in his hair, the fresh air in his face and the weight of his crossbow on his back, Daryl felt at ease.    
The fear of his father finding him one day was ever present, but it was numbed by the immense joy he felt every morning when he woke up and realized where he was. He was happy beyond words to live under the same roof as Rick now and to be able to see him as often as he did. And by now he liked and trusted both Jim and Catherine enough to have the knots in his stomach resolve.    
Apparently the three Grimes had had more talks with each other and were about to solve some of their problems, because they all appeared relaxed these days and way happier than they had when Daryl first met them. Little did the archer know that he was part of the miracle. 

Over the past two weeks Daryl had taken a real shine to Catherine.    
He had no idea what Rick and Jim had said to her and then maybe she had figured it out herself, but her demeanor had changed entirely.    
While she had been a terribly unnerving mother hen when Daryl had first come into this house, she stayed clear of him now without ignoring him. She was there, if he needed her, always had the time to lend a sympathetic ear or give advice, but other than that she gave him the space he needed.    
He liked her. Maybe because he was barely able to remember his mother and there had never been another woman in his life to care for him, save for Miranda Morales, but that was different. Miranda was the kind neighbor, but Catherine was part of a group of people he was living with now, came close to being a mother figure and he liked that idea.   
Maybe he felt more at ease around her, because she was a woman. Although Jim, Dr. Greene and Julio Morales had done right by him, Daryl still had a hard time trusting men. Who could blame him with the kind of experiences he had had with them all his life? He liked Cathy’s soft, high voice, her grace and gentleness, even the way she kept calling people ‘honey’, including him. No one had ever called him by a pet name and it felt nice, emitted a sense of closeness and intimacy that wasn’t awkward or odd, but gave Daryl a feeling of belonging.    
If he was entirely honest with himself, the archer had to admit that it wasn’t just Catherine’s physical attributes that made him feel at ease around her – it was the fact that she was the only other person he knew, who needed help, who was as weak as he was and needed a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on.    
It was easier for him to talk to her about his fears than to Jim or even Rick. Jim was self-confident and strong – he wouldn’t understand and maybe not appreciate it, if the new member of the family was another wimp. He had enough on his hands with his wife, so Daryl didn’t mean to be a burden to the man.    
And he was reluctant to dump more of the load he was carrying on Rick’s shoulders. He had done that often enough during the past four months, had let Rick see how fragile he was more often than he should have. His friend had lost a brother and had his own hardship to deal with – Daryl had to show strength around him from now on to not add more worries and sorrows to those Rick already had to deal with. The younger boy needed his strength to solve his own problems, he couldn’t take care of the archer’s on top of it.   
So Daryl talked to Catherine and she talked to him. They shared their sadness and fears with each other and became friends and confidants in the process.    
Time and again the woman was amazed that a teenager would be able to give more support and advice than any therapist ever had. Daryl had a natural wisdom and an infinite empathy and both were a gift. He sensed the core of a problem instinctively and knew just the right things to say to make a person feel better.   
It was a tragedy, Catherine couldn’t help thinking time and again, that when it came to himself he didn’t have the answers.   
One thing was for sure – while everybody, including Rick and Jim, thought they had changed Daryl’s life for the better, Catherine knew that it was in fact the other way round. She was convinced, that this boy coming into their life was the best thing that ever happened to this family. 

The more days passed, the more Cathy enjoyed her new assignment as mother and friend instead of 24/7 nurse. She was needed without being the slave of circumstances and that instilled her with new confidence and joy – and the hope that bit by bit she’d be able to shed the demons of the past, step out of the shadows and be able to live again.  

The only time Daryl felt lonely despite Catherine being there, was in the mornings when Rick was at school, when he had left the house and was out of sight, out of earshot, just not _there._   
Neither of them had said a word about sleeping in one bed and holding hands, just like the night in the cave had never been an issue, but they both knew there was something lurking below the surface, struggling to break free – and that _something_ was more than friendship.    
Their looks lasted longer, they stood and sat closer and they missed each other achingly when they were apart. Deep down inside they both knew what was going on, but neither had the courage to take the next step. It just wasn’t the right time, the right place – and they both prayed every night that there’d ever be the right time and place. 

Five days before Christmas Eve the first snow fell.    
Daryl had always loved the snow, although it made hunting more difficult as soon as his game’s tracks were covered by a new layer and the wetness had seeped through his insufficient shoes and jacket.    
But it was clean and pure and wrapped the world into a blanket of silence and peace, as though for just a moment all worries had been covered by this glittering layer of innocence. 

Excited like a little boy Daryl pulled the front door open with one hand, while he reached for his new dark blue quilted jacket with the other and looked out into the street, where roughly eight inches of snow covered the road, pavements and front yards.    
It was a Sunday and still early in the morning. Nobody was leaving to go to work or school and thus the virgin snow lay untouched, just waiting for Daryl to leave the first footprint.    
He had always loved doing that. It was as though he was leaving his traces on a new world, just like Neil Armstrong had when he first stepped onto the moon. One small step … It must have been great to be first in doing something or stepping onto unmarked territory – to make a difference in some way. 

         “Rick, c’mon”, he called over his shoulder, “let’s build a snowman.” 

The younger boy’s face appeared in the doorway to the living room and when he saw his eagerly squirming friend in the door, already wearing his jacket, boots, gloves, scarf and hat, he broke out laughing.

         “You look like a snowman yourself.”

He shook his head to himself.    
Apparently his mom had made sure Daryl was equipped with everything he could possibly need to make it through the winter without so much as a cold.    
When he stood in front of his friend, he gave the scarf a playful tug.

         “I bet that store had to close and restock after my mom left.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but Daryl looked embarrassed and uncomfortable all of a sudden and lowered his eyes. He had gotten so many new things, whereas Catherine hadn’t bought a single piece for her son. It didn’t seem fair.

         “Daryl.” Rick dipped his head to look his friend in the eyes. “That was a joke. That outfit looks perfect, honestly. And I can open a store myself with all the gloves and scarfs I’ve gotten over the years, so chill, will you?” 

The older boy looked up through his long bangs and a smile played around his lips. Not because Rick obviously didn’t mind his friend getting a ton of new stuff, while he came away empty-handed, but because Rick had called his new outfit ‘perfect’. Not just ‘good’, but _perfect._   
New snow and a compliment from Rick – that day sure was perfect as well and it wasn’t even 10 a.m. 

Five minutes later both boys were out in the front yard and had started to build a snowman as though they were six years old, not sixteen and almost seventeen.    
There wasn’t enough snow yet to make it a big one, but they had fun nevertheless. In between forming the body and head of their new friend, a snowball hit Rick’s head suddenly and when he looked up with a surprised grunt, he looked straight into Daryl’s mischievously sparkling eyes. The next second the archer was tackled and a handful of snow was stuffed into the collar of his jacket, which had him actually squeal, much to Rick’s amusement. In no time both teenagers were engaged in a mixture of fun wrestling and snowball fight, laughing till their bellies hurt and they were gasping for air. 

He was there out of nowhere.    
They had been so distracted that neither Rick nor Daryl had noticed him until Will Dixon stood behind his son suddenly and a violent, cold hand grabbed the boy by the neck and held him in a fierce grip.

         “Look what I found”, Will growled into the boy’s ear. 

Daryl froze. He didn’t struggle and he didn’t say a word, much that he would have wanted to. But his body only knew this instinctive reaction as soon as his father had that certain inflection and his hands touched Daryl in whichever way.    
The teenager’s heart throbbed panicky as a gazillion thoughts flashed through his mind all at once.   
         _He found me. The dream’s over. He’s gonna drag me back home. Back to_ Terminus _, back to the trailer, back to the belt … I ain’t gettin’ outta this one. He’s gonna kill me. Rick. I ain’t never gonna see him again. We ain’t never gonna go to our lake again. I can never hug him no more, never touch his hand, see his smile … Rick. Rick. Rick._

Daryl closed his eyes as his friend’s name became a mantra and his mind retracted to that safe, beautiful place the way it always did in these situations. Whatever was going to happen next, he wanted Rick’s name to be his last thought. 

The cold hand in his neck shook Daryl violently now, while Will hissed:

         “So there ya are, ya useless li’l bastard. Been lookin’ for yer sorry ass all over the goddamn county.”

         “Let him go!”

Rick’s voice reached Daryl in the hiding place he had retracted to and his eyes flew open.

         _“No, stay outta this”,_ he silently implored his friend, but his father’s derisive laughter ended his train of thought.  


         “What? Ya got somethin’ ta say, rich boy?”  
          
         “I said, let him go!”

Rick would have liked his voice to be strong and determined, the way he knew his father was able to speak, but it sounded like a squeal even to his own ears.   
Will laughed even louder.

         “Or what, curly? Looks like yer ‘bout ta piss yer expensive pants, so ya best ain’t threatenin’ ol’ Will here.”   
         “And you”, he slapped Daryl up the back of his head, “ya gonna come back with me now ‘n’ best do yer job or ya gonna be sorry ta ever bein’ born.”

         “As if I ain’t been all ma life”, Daryl spat, surprised about himself. 

It was the first time he had ever talked back to his father. Will sneered about the reply.

         “Ya ain’t seen nothing yet. And ya better does as I say, ‘cause I know where curly here lives ‘n’ ya wouldn’t want nothin’ ta happen to him, right?”

He tightened his fierce grip and the boy gave a wince of pain when Will squeezed sensitive nerves, muscles and blood vessels in his neck. Rick noticed how his friend’s face distorted and took a step closer, but Daryl held his hand out instantly to make him stop. 

         “Will ya look at that”, Will sneered. “Ya really care for that rich boy, don’t ya? Yer his bitch now?”

         “I ain’t nobody’s bitch”, Daryl replied through gritted teeth. 

         “Yeah, you are. Yer mine and ya best not forget that.”

He got hold of his son’s wrist and twisted his arm back in the intention to make him go with him without any resistance, but the moment Daryl yelped in pain Rick darted forward.    
This man wasn’t going to take Daryl away from him. No way in hell would he allow that. There was no doubt about what would be in store for his friend once Will had managed to drag him out of _Hilltop._ Job or no job, the man was furious and there wasn’t a single good bone in his body. If he was able to leave here with his son, it was likely for Daryl to never even reach _Terminus_ alive.    
The moment Rick was in reach, Will brought his fist up and rammed it straight into his face.    
An excruciating pain exploded in the boy’s head when his nose broke and blood gushed out, dripping into the white snow a second before his knees buckled and he fell, Daryl’s scream of his name ringing in his ears.    
Hate and fury washed over the archer and for the first time in his life he fought back.   
He struggled to free his arm, while he started kicking at his father’s legs, but Will twisting his arm even more forced him to stop before it broke. Tears of frustration and cold fury pooled in his eyes and he cursed his helplessness. He didn’t care what was going to happen to himself, but Rick was hurt. Nothing else mattered.

         “Hey, asshole!” 

A female voice from the front porch had the two Dixons look to the house, where Catherine Grimes had emerged in that moment, a shotgun in her hand that she was aiming straight at Will.

         “Let him go!” 

In a swift move the older Dixon turned until he had made Daryl his human shield. He grinned at the woman derisively.

         “D’ya even know how ta use that thing, bitch?”          

         “Wanna find out?” she gave back. “Don’t think I wouldn’t. You’re just worthless scum, mister, and you are on my property, threatening my sons. Best leave right now. I already called the cops.” 

         “This ain’t yer son, bitch”, Will growled. “That piece a’ shit’s all mine.”

Catherine audibly chambered a round.

         “That bullet in here with your name on it, _that’s_ all yours. And it’s the only thing you’ll be getting here. Last warning – _Let. Him. Go!_ ”

Will showed no intention to comply and a moment later Cathy did the one thing Rick had always hated her doing – she counted backwards.

         “Three.”

She took aim.

         “Two.”

Will made himself a little smaller and hid behind his son’s back, grinning at the woman like someone who was sure to have won the fight already.

         “Ya can’t shoot without hittin’ him first.”

         “But I can.”

A voice from behind him and the butt of yet another shotgun being pressed into his back had Will freeze.  

         “Hi, Tobin”, the woman greeted her neighbor from across the street without lowering her weapon.

         “Morning, Catherine”, he replied, which must have been the oddest situation this neighborhood had ever seen.    
         “What’s the situation here?” 

         “This jackass is threatening my boys and trespassing.”

         “Huh”, Tobin replied with a stern air on his face. “Pretty dumb thing to do.”   
He nudged Will with his rifle.   
         “You are screwing with the wrong people here, asshole. Now do as the lady says and let the boy go!” 

With a furious growl Will shoved Daryl away from him so forcefully, that he dropped into the snow right next to Rick.

         “Ya gonna be sorry for this, bitch.”

         “One!”

A shot rang out and hit the ground right in front of Will’s feet, having the man jump with a shriek.

         “If you call me ‘bitch’ one more time, I’m gonna aim a little higher, so that you’d be singing soprano from now on. And now get lost and don’t dare come back here!”

         “This ain’t over”, Will growled.

He shot his son a killer scowl, then turned on his heels and, cursing under his breath, hurried down the street.    
The second he retreated, Cathy hurried down the steps to where her son was lying in the snow, squirming and pressing his hands to his still bleeding nose. Daryl had brought his handkerchief out and gently tried to pull Rick’s hands away from his face so he was able to help him.   
The perfect day had just turned into a disaster and it wasn’t even noon.

         “Rick, lemme help ya, man. Please.”

At first the younger boy wouldn’t comply, but when he cracked one eye open and saw the hanky in Daryl’s hand, he had to smile despite the pain and the disturbing situation they’d just been through.

         “Not that hanky again, Daryl. We need to give it a name, if it gets involved more often.” 

The archer didn’t reply. Breathing in deep he cautiously pressed the piece of fabric to Rick’s injured nose and in a reflex ran one hand tenderly over the other boy’s curls. 

         “’m sorry”, he croaked out after a moment. 

         “Wasn’t your fault”, Rick answered softly. “Your dad did this, not you.”

         “But if I ain’t been here …”

         “You are right where we want you to be”, Catherine cut in determinedly.

Before she could say anymore, Jim showed up on the porch, wearing a pair of sweat pants and a hoody – his comfortable Sunday morning attire – and looked at the scenario in front of him. What really stuck out was his wife and Tobin standing in the front yard with shotguns in their hands, while several neighbors had appeared in their doors and windows, alarmed by Catherine’s shot.   
With his eyebrows raising to his hairline, Jim walked down the steps and approached his wife, not minding that he was only wearing slippers and his feet got cold and wet in no time.

         “You know, darling”, he said while he shuffled through the snow, “it’s common to use _pistols_ in a duel, not … “

The joke got caught in his throat when he drew nearer and saw his son on the ground – and the blood.

         “What on Earth is going on out here?” 

         “Ma pa”, Daryl said barely audible. “He found me.” 

Jim gritted his teeth, while he crouched down next to Rick.    
This changed everything. As of now there was no pretending that they didn’t know who Daryl was or that they assumed he was just visiting with Rick and his father knew and approved.    
Daryl was that man’s son and he wanted him back. They had no right to keep him here and the only way to protect the boy from having to go back to _Terminus_ , was calling authorities, the one thing Daryl was more afraid of than anything else. It was likely to come to this sooner or later and they had to think of a solution, _now._   
Jim touched Daryl’s shoulder lightly and gave him a reassuring nod when the teenager looked up with fear in his eyes.

         “It’s gonna be alright”, he promised. “But let me help Rick now, okay?” 

He leaned over his son and took a closer look at his face, the injured nose as well as the facial parts around it already starting to swell and turn black and blue. His eyes flicked to Daryl’s face for a second, where the last remains of the bruises were still visible and despite the serious situation, Jim had to suppress a grin.

         “I can’t wait to see our Christmas photos this year”, he commented dryly.

Then he pulled his son off the ground and looked at him questioningly. 

         “I’ll live”, Rick murmured with an eye-roll to the unspoken question, while he still held Daryl’s handkerchief to his nose. 

He was embarrassed to the bone to have been defeated in an instant under the watchful eyes of the entire neighborhood. Some cavalry. He began to understand how General Custer must have felt at Little Bighorn. 

Just when Jim acknowledged that, Tobin’s voice behind him caught the man’s attention.

         “You gonna tell me what‘s going on in this house lately, Jim?” 

His inflection made it clear that he expected an explanation and wasn’t in the least pleased about the latest events in the Grimes’ residence. The suspicious glance he cast in Daryl’s direction made it obvious that he saw the source of the commotion in him.   
Jim exchanged a look with his wife. Then he shrugged, steadied his still wobbly son with an arm around the boy’s waist and just said:  
          
         “Nope.”

And with that said the three Grimes and Daryl disappeared back into the house and left a whole bunch of flabbergasted neighbors standing. 

 

*******

 

As soon as the front door had fallen shut behind them, the Grimes family stopped in the hallway and breathed in deep. 

         “Thanks”, Daryl said in a raspy voice to no one in particular. 

In a way they all deserved gratitude. 

         “Yeah, thanks, mom”, Rick added. “That was so cool.” 

         “No, it was not”, Jim cut in with a stern expression. “Cath, can I have a word with you in private?” 

         “I know what you wanna talk about.” She lifted her chin and looked her husband straight in the eyes. “The shotgun, right?”

         “I said _in private_ ”, he replied sharply.

Catherine kicked off her shoes and only now noticed that she hadn’t even taken the time to put a jacket on. 

         “They can hear this”, she insisted stubbornly. “I know you’re against weapons in the house.”

         “I’m against weapons _at all._ I’ve seen what they can do too many times.”

         “Right. But people not having any and disapproving of them can still be killed or hurt by them, Jim. If Tobin and I hadn’t had our shotguns today, that man would have taken Daryl and there would have been nothing we could have done to prevent that. What would you want me to do, if it happened again – toss a frying pan?”

         “Sure is an option.” 

It was impossible to say, if Jim was joking or not. 

         “Ya said ya called the cops?” Daryl tossed in with a fearful look at Catherine.

Jim gave an approving nod.

         “Well, thank you. That at least was a good … “ 

He stopped in midsentence when he noticed the teenager turned as white as a sheet – and understood. 

         “You called the cops?” Jim addressed his wife with wide eyes.

         “No, of course not”, Catherine said challengingly. “We talked about _that_ , too, and nobody is going to take Daryl …”

The rest of the sentence was swallowed, when all of a sudden Daryl embraced her with a relieved puff.

         “Thanks, Catherine”, he said in a quivering voice, and it went quiet in the hallway for a moment.

Daryl had never called Rick’s mom anything else than ‘Mrs. G’, although she had offered him more than once to call her by her first name. But he hadn’t, as though he was reluctant to take another step, get closer to the members of this family than he already was.   
Maybe because he still had his doubts that they could be trusted when the going got tough. Maybe because he had feared to lose them all again the moment his father would find him – and that he would find him had only been a matter of time. So keeping some kind of distance was to protect himself, to make the farewell a little easier.   
But right in that moment all of Daryl’s doubts had crumbled. This woman had fought like a lioness to defend him and Jim may not approve of her means, but he definitely stood behind her when it came to fighting for their cause. 

         “You’re welcome, honey”, she replied and once again the pet name calling warmed Daryl from inside.

         “Alright everybody”, Jim said with a sigh, “powwow in the dining room. Now.” 

 

When ten minutes later they were all seated around the table with a steaming mug of coffee in front of them, Jim looked from one face to the next and saw three pairs of expectant eyes on him. More or less. Rick’s left eye had almost swollen shut by now and for a moment the man couldn’t help the thought that a little while ago it was Daryl looking that way.    
This had to stop. His family was in danger and he’d be damned, if he didn’t do something about it.

         “First of all”, Jim started the _powwow_ , “I called Hershel.”

Catherine’s eyes widened.

         “Jim, are we gonna have the boys get treated by a vet permanently now?”

         “As long as they don’t start to neigh or bark”, Jim teased, but once again his joke fell flat. He sighed.   
         “Of course not, Cath. We’re gonna take Rick to the E.R. in a bit, but a broken nose is not life threatening. It can wait an hour longer. Right, son?”

         “Sure”, Rick muttered, still holding Daryl’s hanky to his nose. 

The bleeding had stopped by now, but somehow he felt better holding on to this special piece of fabric. It had a history, a meaning and was connected to good and bad memories. It was a part of _them,_ him and Daryl, and right now it was soothing to hold it. 

         “Good”, Jim continued. “I called Hershel, because I’d like him to hear what Cathy and I have decided.”

         “When did you have time to decide anything?” Rick wondered.

         “We’ve been thinking about a plan B for a while now”, Jim replied. “And I think now it’s the time for plan B.”

The doorbell ringing ended this conversation for the time being and Jim got up to answer the door.    
Daryl felt caught in a déjà vu. Hadn’t they been sitting in this room before, waiting for Doctor Greene to arrive and Jim to announce a decision that had been made? The last time it had ended with Daryl leaving, thinking about suicide even, but this was different now.    
He couldn’t even tell why, but whatever plan B was, he had the feeling that Jim would keep his promise for everything to turn out alright. For the first time in his life Daryl was willing to place trust in a man, let alone a man he still didn’t know too well. Now all he could do was wait and hope that this trust wasn’t going to be betrayed. 

When Hershel came into the room, Catherine had already gotten up and met him at the door with a kiss to either cheek and a wide smile.

         “Thanks for coming”, she said. “Did you have trouble getting here in this weather?”

The doctor waved the comment off. 

         “I’ve got a jeep, you now that. And this isn’t Alaska.”

He winked at her and then cast a look over her shoulder, where his eyes met Daryl’s.   
A smile tugged at the man’s lips. His patient looked much better than he had three weeks ago – the bruises on his face were barely visible anymore, the cracked lip had healed and from his occasional check-ups he knew that bit by bit the wounds on the boy’s back were getting better, too. The scars would always be there, but they were only skin-deep.   
Hershel was more concerned about the scars on this boy’s soul, but maybe there was a remedy for those, too.

His eyes flicked to Rick. The next second the doctor gasped when he saw the boy’s face.

         “Good Lord, what happened?”

He approached Rick with concern darkening his eyes, but Jim’s reply had him stop dead in his tracks. 

         “Daryl’s father paid us a visit.”

Hershel pointed at Rick.

         “Will did this?” he slipped and bit his lip, when he saw the reaction in Daryl’s eyes.

In a flash the teenager was on his feet and stared at him with big eyes.

         “How d’ya know ma pa’s name?” 

The doctor raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

         “Daryl, everybody who’s been living in New Hope as long as I have knows your family. I know who you are and I was there when … when your mother died. I’ve known you for as long as you live, but …”

The boy’s eyes were blazing now and his hands balled to fists. 

         “Ya ask me ma name when ya first came here, pretended not ta know me. Why the hell did ya lie to me?”

         “I didn’t lie, just didn’t tell you everything I know. It was important for you to feel safe and you chose to keep your identity a secret, so I humored you.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed even further.

         “Ya tell anyone?” 

         “No. It was best for Jim, and Catherine, not to know who you were and I left it up to Jim whether he wanted that information or not. He said you were gonna tell him all he needed to know when the time comes. My boy, I’d say the time has come now, don’t you think?” 

It was so quiet in the room that one could have heard a pin drop. Daryl looked the elderly vet in the eyes and the kindness and reassurance he saw in them instilled him with courage.    
He looked around himself, at Rick, then Catherine, until his eyes came to rest on Jim’s face. 

         “Dixon”, he said with a sigh. “Ma name’s Dixon. And I live in the _Terminus_ trailer park with ma ol’ man Will ‘n’ ma brother Merle, if he ain’t in jail.” 

He lowered his eyes and stared at the ground, unable to foresee what was going to happen next, now that he had spilled the beans.   
A tall figure appearing in front of him had the boy lift his head and look straight in Jim’s eyes. Slowly, in order not to startle him, the man placed both hands onto Daryl’s shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.  
          
         “Nice to meet you, Daryl Dixon”, he said with a smile. 


	15. Chapter 15

When everybody was seated again and had a refill of coffee, Jim let his eyes wander over the assembled people. 

         “We can’t go on like this”, he said right out. “Fact of the matter is, Will Dixon is Daryl’s father and he’s got the right to claim him. It’s unlikely for him to go to the police, but the man is dangerous and he will not let it rest. We cannot hide Daryl forever and I won’t have my wife take up post with a shotgun to defend this family and the house”, he said sarcastically. 

He noticed how both Daryl and Rick were squirming on their chairs nervously, inching closer to each other with each passing second, afraid that they wouldn’t like the solution Jim and Catherine had come up with.

         “So, plan B.” Jim looked at the two teenagers, who sat shoulder to shoulder and looked at him with wide eyes.   
         “Daryl, there’s no way we’re gonna let you go back to your father or any place where you may not be happy. Catherine, Hershel and I, we’ve been talking about this and if that’s alright with you, we – Cathy and I – would like to become your legal guardians.” 

Daryl’s eyes widened.

         “What’s that mean?” 

         “It means you’ll be officially part of this family.”

When he looked around, the archer saw Catherine’s eyes turn watery, while Hershel looked both relieved and pleased. Jim returned his gaze questioningly with a smile tugging on the corners of his lips, while he calmly waited for his answer.    
Rick had turned to him with a wide grin and joyfully shining eyes and Daryl wanted nothing more than to share all this joy and relief, but he couldn’t.    
He felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. If the past seventeen years had taught him anything, it was that things were never as easy as they appeared and nothing in life ever came for free. 

         “Whadda ya want in return?” he asked straight out.

The smiles around him faded and turned into flabbergasted expressions. 

         “What?” 

This was the last reply Jim had expected and it caught him completely off guard. 

         “Ya heard me”, Daryl said, his inflection slightly defensive. “I know what ya offerin’, but this ain’t like bein’ a foster family or somethin’. Ya ain’t gonna get no money from the state. ‘s only gonna cost ya, so why would ya do a thing like that? What’s in it for y’all?” 

For a moment it was deadly quiet, while the other four people present had to digest this. Then Jim answered honestly for all of them.

         “You.” He looked at Daryl openly when he noticed the surprised air on the boy’s face.   
         “Look around you, Daryl”, the man picked up. “We are sitting at the dining table _together_ and not for the first time since you arrived. This family was falling apart and you brought us back together, got us to talk and work on our problems. You managed what several therapists were unable to do – pull Cathy out of the dark abyss she was stuck in. And Rick – I’ve seen my son laugh and smile more often in the past four months than he has in all his life. Whether you believe it or not, but you are a gift to us, Daryl. And giving you a home is the least we can do to repay that.” 

The teenager stared at Jim as though the man had just grown a second head. Nobody had ever said anything like this to him before. Nobody had ever _felt_ like this about him before. Up until now he had been _worthless scum_ , no more.    
He knew Rick cared for him, but then Rick was a lonely kid just like he was. They were related souls, so his friend’s feelings he could trust.    
But Jim and Catherine and the doctor – why would they care? Was the man even serious?    
The smiles were back and he saw Cathy give him a prompting nod, as though she was wordlessly urging him to agree to the offer already.    
Daryl’s heartbeat accelerated suddenly and his mouth parched when he realized that he was at a crossroads. This was the turning point in his life – his first chance ever on happiness and a life that was worth living. 

Visibly overwhelmed, he just nodded wordlessly and the next second was pulled into Rick’s arms and hugged tight.

         “You’re my brother now”, Rick whispered into his ear.

         “Have been since the day we met”, Daryl replied while he returned the embrace.

Suddenly he tensed up and releasing the other boy sat up straight as a rod. 

         “Ma pa”, he said with a tinge of panic peppering his voice. “He ain’t gonna let me go. ‘s like ya said – he’s still ma father ‘n’ got the right …”

Jim’s soothing gesture had him fall quiet.

         “We’ll need his permission, that’s right, but I think I can sway him. First thing tomorrow I’m gonna pay him a visit and …”

         “Nah!” Daryl was on his feet in a flash. “Ya can’t go ta _Terminus_ , can’t just go into our trailer. He beat the crap outta some guy the other day for doin’ that ‘n’ the douchebag was even from around there. ‘s too dangerous.”

         “I appreciate your concern, Daryl, but …”

         “The boy’s right”, Hershel cut in. “But I think I know just the person to help you, Jim. The chief of police thinks he owes me a favor for saving his dog last year, when it had eaten poisoned meat.”   
         “Some people …” he added, shaking his head to himself.

When he looked up, he noticed Daryl stare at him with wide eyes.

         “Did that happen up north on the outskirts a’ New Hope, where the town folks like ta walk their dogs?” 

         “Yes”, Hershel replied with a suspicious air. 

The boy sighed deeply.

         “Guess the chief a’ police’s gonna be more than eager ta help ya, if ya tell him ma pa’s responsible for the poison. He hates dogs, ‘cause their barkin’ disturbs his nap and TV times ‘n’ their poop’s all over the place. As though that was their fault ‘n’ not their owner’s.”

         “He left poison baits for these poor animals?” Catherine said in shock.

         “Ya even surprised?” Daryl replied. “He’s the kinda person who’d put razor blades on slides ‘n’ swings in playgrounds, too, or glass shards in the candy for ‘em trick-or-treaters.” 

         “Oh, my God”, the woman gasped, while the men stared at Daryl as though they had just taken a peek into the depths of hell.

         “You saw him do all that?” Jim asked gravely.

         “Nah, but I wouldn’t put it past him. ‘n’ we did have rat poison ‘round the trailer last year when those dogs got sick. Ya know, even if he ain’t responsible for that, he sure’s responsible for a gazillion other things, so it ain’t gonna hit no innocent man.”

Bitterness and hate peppered his inflection and for a moment he just stood there, his hands balled to fists while he stared onto the ground, unable to look anyone in the eyes. 

         “Alright”, Jim said into the stillness of the room. “I’ll get all the papers we need ready and would appreciate it, if you called the chief about an escort to _Terminus,_ Hershel.”

         “My pleasure.”

         “By tomorrow night I’m gonna have your father’s signature, Daryl, and then you’ll be free of him – forever.” 

The teenager still kept his head low and wouldn’t look up. He just breathed in deep before he said:  
          
         “Sounds ta good ta be true, Mr. G. I doubt’s gonna be that easy.”

         “Oh, it’s like I said – I think I can sway him.” Jim sounded confident. “I’m a good lawyer and know how to manipulate people. Trust me.”

Daryl looked up and met the man’s eyes. For a moment they just held the other one’s gaze, then the teenager replied determinedly:

         “I do.” 

And he meant it. 

Plan B was active as of now and after they had all finished their coffee, Jim saw Hershel out and once more thanked him for his support.

         “There’s no need to thank me, Jim”, the older man replied. “You’ve got my utmost respect for what you’re doing, and I’m glad that I could do my share so that Daryl’s story is gonna have a happy ending. Way too few stories of that kind ever have.” 

 

The Grimes spent the afternoon at the E.R. to have Rick’s broken nose taken care of, while Daryl stayed back in what was his _home_ now. He nervously paced his room for a while, but when it started to grow dark outside, the nervousness turned into fear.    
         Time and again he thought he heard a sound in the house, footsteps, a squeaking door or creaking deck board, knowing at the same time that his mind was probably playing tricks on him. There were no deck boards in this house and it was too new to have squeaking doors. All windows and doors were locked and he had turned enough lights on to have anybody, looking at the place from the outside, think that the inhabitants were home.    
His father wouldn’t dare break in and come face to face with Catherine’s rifle again. Unless he brought his own gun next time. Daryl wasn’t sure if Will owned a gun at all, but even if he hadn’t so far, it was easy to get one in a place like _Terminus._   
How far would that man go to get his revenge? How furious was he? And even if he was to sign those papers tomorrow – something Daryl didn’t believe in yet – would he really just let Daryl go and stay clear of him and this neighborhood in the future, or would the archer have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life?

In right that moment Daryl really missed Merle. Merle, who survived Will Dixon for a quarter of a century, who was tougher than his baby brother, probably tougher than anyone living in _Hilltop._ With his big brother as backup, Daryl would have felt safe now.   
But Merle wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen him in months, had respected his brother’s wish and not even visited him in prison so far, because the older Dixon didn’t “want his baby brother ta ever set foot into that place”. He hadn’t even written him a letter recently, because writing letters was sissy stuff.    
Merle didn’t know about Rick, about Will beating him half to death, about Daryl moving in with the Grimes and being adopted by them sort of. His life had changed so drastically over the previous months, that Daryl got dizzy just thinking about all this.    
It didn’t seem fair.   
When Merle got out of jail, Daryl wouldn’t be there anymore. Due to a lack of money and a job, the older brother would have no other choice but to go back to _Terminus,_ to _him._ He’d be all alone there with that bastard, just like he’d been the first ten years of his life. It was only fair to warn him, to tell him about all the changes. This time it was Daryl leaving him and he hoped that Merle would forgive him for that.  

 

When the three Grimes came back – Rick’s nose reduced and taped – they found almost ever lamp in the house alit and Daryl curled into a ball on Rick’s couch, where he had dozed off watching TV, clutching Catherine’s shotgun.   
There weren’t any questions – the scenario spoke for itself.    
Daryl flinched when Jim took the rifle out of his hands and pushed it into his wife’s arm with a chiding glance that said _“Get that thing outta my sight and lock it away already.”_   
Then he placed a soothing hand on the teenager’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. 

         “It’ll be alright. I promise”, he just said, before he gently but insistently pushed Catherine out into the corridor and closed the door behind them, leaving the two boys alone. 

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Daryl sat up with a clearly embarrassed expression. Once again he had let his friend see his weakness, his fears – something he had never wanted to do again.    
Rick didn’t say a word. He sat down next to his the older boy and wordlessly nudged his shoulder with his own. It was a friendly, reassuring gesture that said _“I’m here for you”_ without making it an issue. 

         “How’s yer nose?”, Daryl asked softly. 

         “Hurts. But they said it’s gonna heal just fine in no time and my beauty won’t be marred”, he joked.

         “Oh, ya had plastic surgery done while ya was there?” Daryl teased and got nudged once more. 

         “Jackass.”

         “That’s ma line.” 

They looked each other deep in the eyes for a moment, a silent conveyance of support and affection, before Rick averted his eyes and cast a glance at the TV screen.

         “Whadda you watching?” 

         “Dunno. Tuned in ‘n’ then fell asleep. Sure hope it ain’t that zombie crap.”

Rick laughed lightly.

         “You’ll never get over that, huh?”

He sat next to the archer and looked at the screen without really seeing what was on, then he suddenly scooted down and placed his head in Daryl’s lap, stretching his legs with a relieved sigh. 

         “What a day”, he said nonchalantly, as though they were watching TV like this all the time.

He flashed his friend a questioning glance.

         “D’you mind?” 

         “Nah.”

No more was said. It was silent in the room, save for the sounds from the movie neither boy was really paying attention to. Rick relaxed visibly, stretched out on the sofa like this, and his calm demeanor rubbed off on Daryl.    
They were both lulled in by the voices and music on screen and a moment later Daryl’s fingers started to run gently through Rick’s curls. A smile played around the younger boy’s lips and he could barely refrain from purring, while Daryl indulged in the feel of his friend’s soft hair and the solid warmth of his head in his lap. 

         _“You’re my brother now”,_ Rick’s earlier words echoed in Daryl’s mind.

If this was how you were supposed to feel for your brother, then why had he never felt anything slightly resembling for Merle? 

 

Daryl was still wondering about that when he went to his room after dinner. He was fairly certain that what he was feeling for Rick was way more than brotherly love, and being the other boy’s brother wasn’t really want he wanted.    
But it was a start.   
When he turned the light on and looked into his room, a warm feeling spread through the archer’s body and had his heart rate pick up. 

         _“It’ll be alright.”_

He wanted to believe that promise more than anything, wanted to be part of this family and free from his father. Wanted to start over new, with Rick, Cathy and Jim. – And the beautiful handmade quilt that at some time that evening had found its way back into his room.

 

*******

 

The next day must have been the longest both Daryl and Rick had ever seen.    
Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes felt as long as hours and they were both totally unable to distract themselves, no matter what they did.    
School holidays were going to start in a few days and due to his injury the doctor in the E.R. had put Rick on sick leave until then.    
They had both been looking forward to the holidays, to a few days with no separation each morning, but their nerves being strung like the string on Daryl’s crossbow didn’t let them enjoy their leisure time together now. They feared for Jim’s safety as much as they feared for Will Dixon to just say ‘no’ and reclaim his son.    
After all, despite several witnesses to the abuse, there was no proof. They hadn’t informed the police and the only doctor who had treated Daryl, was a veterinarian.    
Both were highly questionable facts that required very good explanations. Maybe Will was aware of that. Plan B could be blown out of the water and after that there was no going back to square one.    
Morgan Jones, the chief of police, was informed now and Jim was right – Daryl couldn’t just hide in the Grimes’ house forever, just like he couldn’t go back to his father. There was no telling what would happen, if Will Dixon refused to sign those papers.   
Catherine was little better off than the two boys. She had occupied herself with cleaning the house, as well as cooking and baking up a storm, but nothing had been able to soothe her.    
Rick and Daryl had even joined her at some point due to a lack of anything better to do, but their nervousness had rubbed off on her and in the end Catherine had given both teenagers a hug and had opted for returning to the sweater she was knitting, thus discreetly dismissing the two boys.    
They had tried ping-pong, but even Rick had barely been able to hit a ball today. That’s when they had come to realize that every kind of occupation that only kept their hands, but not their minds busy, was not suitable to distract them enough. They had to find something they needed to concentrate on.

         “Wanna read a book?” Daryl suggested and was met by Rick’s sceptical glance right away.

         “Not really”, the younger boy replied. 

The thought of having to spend the next hours with his nose stuck in a book, trying to concentrate on what was written there, appeared neither helpful nor appealing to him.

         “Nah, I meant together. I’m gonna read a chapter to ya ‘n’ then ya gonna read the next one ta me. That way be both need ta speak or listen all the time. Might work. And yer dad’s got a couple of nice books, ya know.”

Rick pulled a face.

         “The old ones?”

         “Classics.”

         “Yeah, that’s just the nicer word for _old._

Daryl couldn’t help smiling at that.

         “Gonna keep that in mind for when we’re _classics_ one day.” 

Rick laughed out loud.

         “And when’s that? Next year or so?”

         “Nah, I’s thinkin’ of fifty years from now.”

Stunned the younger boy looked at his friend.

         “Wow”, he breathed, “think you can bear my _ugly mug_ that long?”

         “I’s hopin’ that plastic surgery took care a’ the worst”, Daryl teased, pointing at Rick’s bandaged nose.

Again Rick pulled a face and was just about to shoot a comeback, when Daryl giving his belly a gentle pat and nodding towards his room, distracted him.

         “Let’s go read one a’ ‘em books now, ‘kay?”

Once inside the archer’s room, they took a look at the choice of books that had found their way onto Daryl’s shelf and Rick couldn’t help shaking his head.

         “Seriously now?” he asked. “You wanna read a book about some asshole shooting at whales?”   
He pointed at _Moby Dick_.   
         “And this …” he flashed Daryl a look while he nodded to _Oliver Twist._ “This is about an orphan. Poor boy, who’s sold into apprenticeship to some jackass, who’s mistreating him. What is this?” 

         “Life”, Daryl commented dryly. “I didn’t write ‘em. Pick another one, if ya can’t stomach ‘em. How’s this?”

         “ _Robinson Crusoe”,_ Rick commented with a snort. “Yeah, great – that’s a story about some idiot, who got lost on an island. And instead of welcoming the help and knowledge of a friendly local when he meets him, he gives him a stupid name like Friday, never even bothering to ask him his real name. The guy’s arrogant as shit, thinking just because he’s from Europe and not a _savage_ like Friday, he had to teach him his way of living and show him how things were done in Friday’s goddamn own country. Halfway through the book I was hoping those cannibals would eat him already, so the douchebag’s gone.”

Daryl burst out laughing.

         “Ain’t gonna be easy findin’ a book ya gonna have mercy on, huh? Alright, let’s forget about the classics – how’s this?”

He held a book out to Rick and lifting one eyebrow the younger boy took it and flipped through the pages. There were ornate prints in the shape of leafs next to the page numbers and beautiful illustrations at the beginning of each chapter. It looked intriguing.

         “ _The Neverending Story_?” Rick murmured. “That a fantasy book?”

         “Uh-huh. ‘s beautiful. And it’s different. Not like any other book ya just put down after readin’ it. This one stays with ya.” 

With a surprised air the younger boy looked his friend in the eyes.

         “Have you read it already?”

         “Parts. When I’s a little younger I went to the library a few times durin’ the winter. It was warm in there ‘n’ ma pa or any other jackass from _Terminus_ sure wouldn’t go there, so it was safe, too. I hid behind one a’ the shelves ‘n’ started readin’ this book – till the day the librarian spotted me and kicked me out.”   
He sighed.   
         “Never knew how it ended. If they was able ta save Fantasia or not.”

         “What’s Fantasia?”

         “’s the world a’ human dreams ‘n’ hopes ‘n’ fantasies. That’s why it ain’t got no boundaries ‘n’ every imaginable creature ‘n’ magical place’s there.”

         “Are there zombies, too?” Rick giggled and only suppressed his grin when Daryl cast him a chiding glance.

          “Dunno, ya twerp. Probably, since someone thought ‘em up.”  
He pulled a face.  
         “Must be some degenerated mind ta come up with stuff like zombies, but what the heck. I just wanna know how that book ends.”

         “Fine”, Rick walked over to Daryl’s bed and, with the book in hand, sat on it indian style and leaned his back against the headboard.   
He patted the mattress next to him.   
         “Come on. Make yourself comfy – I’m gonna read the first chapter.”

An almost excited smile spread over the archer’s face and a second later he lay stretched out next to Rick, one arm tucked underneath his head and looking up to his friend expectantly.

Rick opened the book, but before he started reading he ask:

         “If Fantasia’s the world of human fantasy, why does it need to be saved? And from what?” 

         “People were givin’ up their hopes and dreams ‘n’ Fantasia was dying. It was destroyed by the Nothing, the emptiness ‘n’ despair that remains if ya ain’t got no dreams ‘n’ hopes no more. ‘s why I need ta know if it has a good ending. Dunno if they killed that whale in the other book or that orphan boy had his story end well – those are just stories. But … but … this book touched me back then, ya know. Fantasia was the only place I’s able to always run to when ma dad … when he … ya know. ‘s gotta be saved. I mean, what else d’ya got save for yer hopes and dreams, if ya got nothin’ else at all?” 

Rick swallowed and placed a gentle hand on his friend’s arm.

         “It’s a children’s book, Daryl. I’m sure it ends well.”

         “Well, start readin’ already or we never gonna find out.” 

A smile tugged at Rick’s lips.

         “Yes, sir”, he replied and laughed when Daryl slapped his thigh. 

Then he started.    
Hours passed as they took turns reading chapter by chapter to each other and before they knew it the light outside started fading. They heard Catherine downstairs rummage through the kitchen cabinets for pots and pans and the groceries she needed to prepare dinner, just as Rick reached over Daryl’s head to turn the bedside lamp on.    
It was the younger boy’s turn to read again and some time during the current chapter, Daryl had turned onto his side, facing away from Rick, listening quietly. 

         “You still awake?” Rick ask, leaning over his friend to take a peek at his face.

         “Sure”, came the reply, while Daryl scooted back a little until his back touched Rick’s legs. 

         “Are you cold?”

         “Nah. ‘m fine. Go on”, he prompted, knowing that him seeking physical contact for no obvious reason hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Rick turned a page and resumed reading. A moment later he ran his hand gently over Daryl’s hair and then let his arm dangle over the archer’s shoulder, so that his hand lay loosely on the older boy’s chest. Daryl got hold of that hand instantly and held on, while Rick kept on reading as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.    
And then, maybe nothing had. It was what it was. 

Reading and listening to this story did the trick. They were both so wrapped up in Fantasia’s adventures, that they jumped when the front door fell audibly shut and Jim called:

         “Where is everybody? I’m back.”

Daryl’s hand tightened its grip painfully all of a sudden and Rick knew why. In an impulse he bent over the boy by his side and pressed a reassuring kiss on his head.

         “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything’s just fine. Come on.” 

He nudged Daryl gently, while he closed the book and placed it onto the nightstand. Atreyu and Bastian’s problems would have to wait. Daryl’s were the priority now. 

By the time they had run down the stairs and came into the living room, where Rick’s parents were waiting for them, the knots in Daryl’s stomach were growing tighter and tighter until it hurt. His heart was beating so hard that the archer was certain it was audible to everyone in the room.    
He looked at Jim with wide eyes and cursed the fact that the man was perfectly deadpanning when he returned the gaze. That pokerface sure was helpful in court, but to Daryl is was torture right now. 

         “Daryl”, Jim said in an almost solemn inflection. “Congrats!”    
A grin started spreading over the man’s face.   
         “Your dad signed the papers. As of now, you are free of him.” 

Tears of relief sprang to the teenager’s eyes and he hid his face on Rick’s shoulder the same second his friend’s arms pulled him into a tight hug. For a long moment they just held each other, unable to comprehend that this nightmare was really over, that Daryl was part of this family now and would never have to leave again. 

         “Guess ya saved me after all”, Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear and a moved air came to the younger boy’s face.

         “My dad did.” 

         “Y’all did”, Daryl replied, while he lifted his head. 

He noticed Catherine standing behind Rick’s back with tears of joy running down her cheeks and without thinking twice, Daryl released his friend and hugged the woman instead. 

         “Thank you”, he said, audibly fighting for his composure. 

         “Our pleasure entirely”, she said, while she placed a kiss on his cheek. 

Daryl let go and turned to Jim, one of the knots in his stomach remaining. Hugging Rick and Cathy, that was one thing, but Jim …? Why was that still so difficult, even after all the man had already done for him?    
Jim noticed the boy’s hesitation and held up his hand for a high-five, offering him a way out, and with a wide smile Daryl accepted the offer.

         “Thanks, Mr. G”, he said after he had given Rick’s dad the high-five.”   
“Jim”, he then added with a smile.

The man swallowed against a lump in his throat. This didn’t seem like much, but Daryl calling him by his first name and accepting the previous touch, even if it was just a high-five, that was a milestone.

 

Catherine brought out a bottle of the finest champagne to celebrate the occasion, totally ignoring Jim’s attempt to point out to her that the boys were still under the legal drinking age. 

         “You are such a party pooper at times, Mr. Lawyer”, she commented dryly, while she filled four glasses to the brim. 

After she handed one to each member of her family, she asked with a smirk:

         “Cards on the table, boys, is this really your first drink?”

Rick and Daryl exchanged a surprised look and communicated silently for a moment.   
         _Truth?_   
Daryl gave one of his barely noticeable nods and with a shrug Rick replied:

         “Nope.”

Jim’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, while his eyes flicked to Daryl.

         “Nah”, the archer shrugged. “Was raised by an alcoholic. Whadda ya expect?” 

         “You were not”, the man addressed his son. “So when and where …?”

         “4th of July BBQ at the Walsh’s last year. Shane _procured_ a couple of beers when no one was watching.”

         “Shane. I see”, Jim replied thoughtfully. Then a wide grin suddenly spread over his handsome face.   
         “Yes, I remember a BBQ like that at a friend’s house when I was your age, too. You never gonna have another beer that tastes quite like the first one you _procured_ when you were still too young for it.”

         “Or eggnog at Christmas right behind your grandma’s back”, Catherine giggled. “Cheers!”    
She raised her glass and touched it to Daryl’s.   
         “To your new life, honey. Hopefully it’s gonna be way better than your old one.”

Jim touched his glass to the teenager’s, too, and added:  
          
         “Whatever we can do to make it better, we will.” 

         “Yeah, fine”, Daryl croaked, fighting back tears once again, “ya can all start by cuttin’ out this sappy crap. Ya makin’ me cry.”

Laughing, they all clinked glasses and drank to Daryl’s better future. 

 

Around midnight Rick was woken by a sound he couldn’t identify at first.    
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sitting up in bed, listened into the darkness of his room.   
After what happened that night Daryl had tried to get his attention out there and almost died due to Rick ignoring him, the curly-haired boy had sworn to himself to never again ignore a sound that woke him up at night.   
It was quiet now, save for the wind howling around the houses and, no doubt, chasing clouds that would bring more snow.    
Just when Rick was about to lie down again and go back to sleep, he heard it again.    
It came from the room next door – Daryl’s room – and was easy to hear despite the bathroom that lay in between of the boys’ rooms. They always left the doors ajar.   
It made them feel closer to each other to be able to hear the other one’s breathing or the rustling of the bedclothes when they moved. But this just now was neither.    
Rick got out of bed and pattered softly over to his friend’s room, quietly sticking his head through the door and peeking into the darkness.   
He was greeted by a sob.    
For a moment Rick waited motionless, holding his breath. He wanted to make sure this had really been a sob and nothing else. Daryl’s breath was labored and from what Rick was able to make out in the twilight, the bedcovers were a ruffled mess.    
The younger boy gasped when he felt a reaction in his pants all of a sudden. The mere imagination that Daryl may be jerking off over there had him grow hard and his mouth parch.   
The sound came again and Rick curse under his breath. It _was_ a sob.    
Feeling like a complete asshole he tried to will down his erection, while he pushed the door open and walked over to Daryl’s bed.

         “Daryl?” he whispered into the twilight.

         “Go away.” The voice wasn’t nearly as steady as Daryl had intended. 

Totally ignoring the unfriendly dismissal, Rick let himself sink onto the edge of the bed and reached for the bedside lamp. A hand grasping his wrist stopped him.

         “Don’t. Just go. – Please.”

Not again. Daryl gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let Rick see him cry – again. He had lost face often enough in the presence of his friend. It couldn’t happen again.

         “Nope.” Without a warning, Rick lifted the covers and crawled into bed, giving Daryl a nudge to have him scoot over.    
         “You really think I’d just turn and leave now? Do-gooder, remember?” 

         “Oh, brother”, Daryl growled next to him.  
          
         “Yeah, that too”, Rick said softly before he turned on his side, facing his friend, and wrapped one arm loosely over the other boy’s side.  
         “Wanna tell me what’s wrong? I thought you were happy about being here, being part of this family now.”

It was quiet for a moment and there was nothing to be heard save for Daryl pulling in several deep breaths, audibly fighting new tears.

         “He sold me”, the older boy croaked out suddenly, suppressing another sob.

         “What?” Rick answered in total incomprehension.

         “Ma pa. He didn’t just sign those papers so ‘s I could have a better life or somethin’. There wasn’t the least good intent, no regrets, nothin’.”   
He swallowed thickly.   
         “I happened ta overhear Jim tellin’ yer mom ‘bout it. Ma ol’ man only agreed ta signin’ those papers after yer pa paid him money. Enough ta persuade the ol’ fart ta start over somewhere else – other county, probably another state.”

         “He’s gone?” 

         “Yeah, after he bargained for me as though I’s a piece a cattle or furniture or somethin’. Wanna know how much I’m worth?”

         “No. I know how much you’re worth. Whatever my dad paid, it wasn’t enough, that’s for sure, because you’re invaluable. And no matter what, your father got the short end of the deal. It’s his loss entirely.” 

The sobs subsided.

         “I just thought somehow, somewhere deep inside, he cared just a li’l bit for me after all. But I guess he didn’t.”

Rick pulled the older boy closer and touched his forehead to the Daryl’s.

         “You know, being your begetter never made him your father. He never deserved you. He’s like Gmork in our book – one of the creatures who’re evil and help the Nothing destroy Fantasia by trying to take away all the hopes and dreams. But know what – he lost.”  
          
         “Who? Gmork or ma pa?” Daryl replied and Rick thought he heard a tiny smile peppering his inflection.  
                    
         “Both. The story in that book is gonna end well, Daryl. Mark my words. Just like yours.”

         “Ya really believe that?”

         “Absolutely.”

Daryl mirrored Rick’s gesture and wrapped one arm over the other boy’s side, too.

         “Ya gonna be part a’ ma story?” he asked softly.

         “Thought I already was”, Rick replied just as softly before he turned on his back and let himself sink into the pillows, gently pulling Daryl along.

The archer’s head came to rest on his shoulder, while he kept his arm wrapped around Rick’s middle. He snuggled up, smiling to himself when he felt the younger boy’s fingers run tenderly through his hair. He loved Rick caressing his hair, loved the feel of the slender body close to him, loved lying in the other boy’s arms. He loved _Rick_. Why was he even still trying to deny this to himself?

         _“Brothers. We are brothers”,_ he secretly reminded himself. _“Brothers…”_

         “I need ta see Merle.” 


	16. Chapter 16

Two days before Christmas Eve, Jim’s black Porsche SUV pulled into the parking lot of the SCI Mahonoy and with a concerned side glance the man turned off the engine. 

         “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Daryl nodded. 

         “He’s ma brother. I ain’t seen him in months ‘n’ got so much ta tell him. – He’s gotta know.”

Jim nodded.

         “Guess you’re right.”

 

When he was seated behind the glass panels that separated the visitor booths from the place the inmates would sit, Daryl was nervously chewing on his thumbnail. He was waiting for Merle to come in.    
Jim had offered to accompany him, but this was a conversation Daryl had to have with his brother in private. The things he was going to tell him were way too personal and no matter what – Merle was blood. He knew him longer than anyone else, save for Will. And he had a right to know. Everything. 

The moment the older Dixon appeared on the other side of the panel and Merle saw his brother, his eyes became cold as glacier ice.

         “What did I tell ya ‘bout comin’ here, Darylena?”

         “Nice ta see ya, too, jackass.” 

For a moment they tried to stare each other down, then Merle threw his hands in the air with a snort and dropped onto his chair. 

         “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, yer one stubborn asshole, I give ya that. Whadda ya want?” 

         “Something happened”, Daryl started cautiously. 

He had rehearsed the speech he was going to give Merle a gazillion times, but now that he was face to face with him, words failed him.   
How was he to tell his brother that he was part of another family now? That their father had almost killed him. That he was gone now, hopefully never to return. That there was someone in his life now he felt stronger for than he had ever felt for anyone else. And that this someone was a guy.    
He couldn’t just go “Hey, Merle, guess what – the old fart almost beat me to death, so some nice folks adopted me ‘n’ gave him enough money for me to get lost. And I’m in love with ma new brother, ‘cause – surprise – I’m gay.”    
Merle was likely to jump straight through this panel if he did that, so a more subtle approach may have been advisable. But how do you call a spade a spade without using the word spade? 

         “Ya want me ta guess or are ya gonna spit it out any time today?” Merle grumbled when Daryl’s silence lasted too long. 

         “Maybe … maybe it’d be easier, if I showed ya.” 

That said he slowly stood and turned around, pulling up his shirt with shaking hands.   
It was deadly quiet behind him for a moment, then Merle growled:  
          
         “I’m gonna kill him. I swear ta God, the moment I get outta this fuckin’ shithole the ol’ bastard’s dead meat.” 

Daryl whirled around on his heels, casting scrutinizing glances around himself.

         “Ya nuts ta say a thing like that ‘round here?”

         “Why? Ain’t against the law ta make a promise to yer ol’ man, right?”    
He gritted his teeth.    
“I told him ta keep his paws off a’ ya. Told him I’s gonna stomp his ass into the ground if he touched ya ever again. I may not’ve been a man a’ ma word too many times, but that’s a promise ‘m gonna keep, baby brother.” 

“Ya don’t have ta. He’s gone.”

And then Daryl told his brother about the day the Grimes saved his life – in every respect. About taking him in, becoming his legal guardians, about paying money to Will in return for disappearing from his sons’ life.

When he stopped, Merle’s eyes had narrowed.

         “Oh, I get it – bein’ a Dixon ain’t good enough for ya no more.”

         “What the hell was ever good ‘bout bein’ a Dixon, Merle? There ain’t nothin’ we’s ever able ta do right. Folks knew us, knew who we was ‘n’ as soon as they seen us, they’d spit in our faces just for breathin’ in their presence. Ya know how it is!”

         “And ya think livin’ with ‘em rich people now’s gonna make a difference? Ya still a Dixon, ya stupid ass, and ya always gonna be no more than a Dixon. ‘s gonna stick to ya like the plague ‘n’ wearin’ fine clothes, drivin’ expensive cars ‘n’ livin’ in a fancy house ain’t gonna change that. Just wait till the neighbors in that development are gonna understand what just moved into their upper class neighborhood. Ya gonna have a mob on yer hands in no time ‘n’ who knows, maybe ya gonna be the first white dude they gonna burn a cross in the front yard for.”

         “Shut up!” Daryl had jumped up and slammed his hand against the glass panel, having the guard on duty cast him a warning glance.   
“Yer just jealous, ‘s all.”

         “Jealous?!” Merle gave a derisive laugh. “Man, ain’t nothin’ sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he’s an indoor cat. That what ya wanna be?”

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment and tried to still his frantically beating heart. 

         “I ain’t like ya, Merle.”

         “Ain’t that the truth. All ‘em years I spent tryin’ ta make a man of ya ‘n’ this is what I get? Some pussy who runs ‘n’ hides in some rich folks’ home ta be their pet. Ya don’t want yer ol’ brother Merle no more, huh? D’ya find yerself a new brother there, too?”

The reaction in Daryl’s eyes gave him away in a flash and Merle pressed his lips together to a thin line for a moment.

         “His name’s Rick”, Daryl said meekly. “We’s friends first, before …”

         “The hell are ya now?”  

The younger brother gave a heavy sigh.

         “Think I better go, Merle.” He sounded defeated. “Sorry for bein’ no more than a disappointment to ya, too. Just thought ya hadda know ‘n’ I’s hopin’ that … that ya was gonna be happy for me.”

He shrugged.  
          
         “Ya gonna cry now, Darylena?” 

         “Nah, ‘m done doin’ that. Was never worth it anyway. Nothin’ ever was – till now.”

He turned around to leave, then cast a look over his shoulder and said:

         “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

And then he was out the door and left his brother behind, just like his past.

When the guard came to take him back to his cell, Merle’s eyes were still focused on the door through which Daryl had just left, but he didn’t really see it.   
Instead he saw a myriad of pictures before his mind’s eye.    
Pictures of his baby brother when he was just born. When he was taking his first shaky steps, flashing his big brother a smile with those adorable little mouse teeth toddlers had. When he looked at Merle proudly after having shot his first squirrel with his new crossbow.    
There had been good moments, but way too many bad ones, too.    
Merle had too many memories of Daryl’s disappointed face when once again Christmas or his birthday came and went without any presents or a party or but a single hug. Too many times there’d been tears pooling in those blue eyes, that looked achingly like their father’s, when new scars, new bruises and broken bones had been inflicted on the boy’s body. And then had come a time those tears had run dry and the disappointment had faded. A time that Daryl had learned not to make wishes anymore or get his hopes up and to just take whatever Will would mete out without any emotions, any reaction, as though a precious part of him had died and was lost forever.    
In all these years there wasn’t but a single memory of Daryl in which Merle had seen his eyes shine of pure happiness – until today. 

         _“I_ am _happy for ya, li’l brother, but yer ol’ brother Merle ain’t good for ya, can’t be part a’ this new world yer livin’ in now. ‘s why ‘m lettin’ ya go. Whoever ‘em folks are, they’re good for ya ‘n’ that Rick dude … I sure hope he knows that he’s one lucky guy, gettin’ a brother like you. Or whatever ya are to him.”_

The guard locked the door of his cell behind Merle and walked away, while the inmate sank heavily onto this small bed.

         _“Merry Christmas to ya, too, bro. Hope for once’s really gonna be a merry one. Wish I’d been a better brother, but I screwed up. Best thing I can do for ya now’s not bein’ yer brother no more.”_

He got up and walked over to the small, barred window and looked out into the sky that was veiled by heavy, gray clouds. No doubt there would be more snow soon.

         _“Love ya, Daryl. Wish I’d told ya that at least once.”_

And in right that moment Merle knew that he would never see his brother again.

 

*******

 

By the time the sun set on Christmas Eve, Daryl felt as though he was part of one of those sappy Disney Christmas movies Merle had never stopped making fun of.    
Their trailer had never seen a single piece of decoration – no tree, not even a tiny artificial one, no wreath, no candles or red bows, nothing.    
This house however was loaded with all of that, as were the neighboring houses, and it appeared as though _Hilltop_ was engaged in an unofficial competition of who would end up with the most fairy lights around their house, the largest tree, the most red bows and evergreens at their window sills and more or less tawdry figurines of reindeers and snowmen in their front yards.    
The tree in the Grimes’ home was as high as the ceiling and decorated in a tasteful selection of red and golden balls, bows and figurines along with a chain of plain white fairy lights. Catherine said she hated the colorful ones that made every Christmas tree appear as though the circus was in town and Daryl couldn’t have agreed more.    
But he wouldn’t have minded nevertheless.   
This was the first real Christmas he would ever celebrate and it was the first time he lived in a home where people even had a tree. Even if it had all the colors of the rainbow, he would have thought it perfect, simply because it was _there._   
He loved the decorations, the soft Christmas carols coming from a CD and the way the entire house smelled of apple-cinnamon-pie and candles and pine tree.    
The thing Daryl loved most however, was the way smiles seemed to be plastered to everybody’s face and once in a while someone would even sing along to those Christmas songs.    
A Dixon singing a Christmas carol, singing _at all_ , was a thing unheard of and Daryl had been reluctant at first to give it a try, but by noon he had secretly hummed “Jingle Bells” and an incredible happiness and warmth had spread through his body instantly. He started to understand why people loved Christmas. 

Rick and he had continued reading their book the larger part of the afternoon, again lying side by side on Daryl’s bed, when Jim calling them downstairs had them heading into the living room.   
It was dark outside now and the tree was alight, as were several candles throughout the room and more fairy lights at the windows. Daryl looked around himself in awe.

         “’s beautiful”, he slipped before he knew what he was saying.

A Dixon calling anything ‘beautiful’ was a thing unheard of, too. At least as far as his dad and Merle were concerned. Never before had Daryl realized more clearly that he was different, that he must have been a poor excuse for a Dixon in both Merle and his father’s eyes, but he couldn’t have cared less. He loved Christmas carols and singing along, he loved all of this however sappy it may be. And he wasn’t ashamed to call it beautiful, because that’s what it was. 

         “Thanks, honey”, Catherine beamed at him, before she added with a side glance to her husband: “Jim helped.”

The man laughed out loud. 

         “Yeah, it’s tradition. I get to place the angel on top of the tree. That’s as far as my help goes.”   
He placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek.   
         “But thanks for the appreciation.”

With a smile Rick nudged his friend’s side and then said cautiously, keeping his eyes on the festive tree:

         “And here you said you didn’t like holidays.”

         “Had ma reasons”, Daryl replied with a bitter inflection. “’twas just that … that I got ma hopes up too many times ‘n’ was disappointed, each ‘n’ every time. So I figured if I ain’t expectin’ nothin’ ‘n’ ignore holidays altogether, there ain’t no disappointment no more, either.”

The three Grimes looked at him thoughtful and sympathetic, when Catherine asked softly:

         “Is this why you said you didn’t want any presents?”

Daryl nodded.

         “And ‘cause I … I think … I think ya doin’ enough for me as it is. Told ya I ain’t used ta all the fancy stuff ‘n’ don’t need it, either.”

         “You know, Daryl”, Jim replied. “Giving someone a present is no charity – it’s a gesture of appreciation and the wish to make that person happy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of and it doesn’t mean you owe us anything, if we make a gift. Okay?”   
He didn’t wait for an answer, before he added:   
         “But we respect your wish for no Christmas presents and Rick, Cathy and I have decided to go without any ourselves this year and instead give the money we’re saving to people who need it. There’s a really nice home for children like you in Doylestown and they need all the support they can get.”

He saw a reaction in Daryl’s eyes and said gently:

         “I know how you think about these places, but Cath and I – we visited this one and it’s a really nice place.”

         “Let’s hope so”, the archer replied, not saying that he suspected the Grimes’ money to be spent on Christmas gifts for the adults running that place, but not the misfortunate children there. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there were good homes out there, where _children like him_ were treated well. If he had one Christmas wish, it would be that. 

         “I know it’s hard to trust anyone after what you’ve been through”, Jim picked up, “but in this case I think, we did the right thing. Anyway – it’s Christmas and a gift doesn’t necessarily have to be stuff and things bought in a store.”

In that moment the doorbell rang. 

         “Right on cue”, Jim grinned and looked at Daryl. “It’s for you, I think. Wanna open the door?” 

With a surprised air the boy exchanged a look with Rick and then, shrugging, headed down the hallway to the frontdoor. When he opened it, five smiling faces greeted him and he was pulled into a tight hug instantly.

         “Feliz navidad!”

Miranda Morales gave him a hearty kiss on each cheek, before she cupped his face with both hands.

         “It is so good to see you. And you look wonderful – have you gained? Well, it was about time someone fed you right.” 

         “If I said that to her, I’d be sleeping on the couch for a week”, Julio Morales commented dryly behind his wife’s back and was at the receiving end of her chiding glance instantly.

         “Two”, she replied, before she laughed and then, after giving Daryl’s cheek an affectionate pat, brushed by him to greet Catherine and Jim, who had just appeared in the doorway of the living room to welcome their guests. 

         “Daaarylll!!” a young voice sounded behind Mr. Morales and the next moment Louis pushed his way past his father and ran into the archer’s arms.

Grinning the teenager lifted the boy up and whirled him around. 

         “Hey, Casper.”

Rick had appeared next to his friend and smiled at the little boy. 

         “Hey, Rick. D’you got some more M&Ms?”

Rick laughed out loud and ruffled the boy’s hair. 

         “I’m not sure about M&Ms, but I doubt a lack of candy will be a problem around this place.”

         “What happened to your nose?” the boy asked with a concerned frown.

         “Never mind that”, Rick replied, “it was just some bad guy trying to steal the candy and I defended it with my life. Need to have candy around the house when my favorite little ghost comes for a visit.”

         “Cool”, Louis said with an appreciative nod that made both teenagers chuckle. 

         “Ma hero”, Daryl commented to his friend, shaking his head about the silly story, but he did it with a smile.

Behind them Jim led Mr. and Mrs. Morales into the living room, while Catherine headed to the front door to welcome the rest of their guests.   
Hershel Greene stood in the door with a girl of about ten on his hand, smiling at the scenario in the hallway. 

         “You must be Eliza”, Cathy greeted the girl friendly, before giving the doctor a hug.   
         “Come on in. We’re so glad you could come.”

 

An hour later, despite quite a lot of M&Ms and the likes having been passed around, everybody was seated at the dinner table. And Catherine couldn’t help saying a silent prayer, that for once they’d be able to enjoy a holiday meal without any disasters ruining it.    
A couple of times she noticed Daryl casting the Morales a glance with an expression that was hard to define. Surely it was kind of awkward having his old neighbors seeing him living in this house now. They had been in the same boat for so long, but now Daryl had gone ashore and had left them behind. Was he afraid they would begrudge him his luck?

         “Is he really gone?” the teenager asked unexpectedly and thus revealed the true nature of his thoughts. 

Julio Morales lowered the fork he was just about to put in his mouth and exchanged a glance with his wife. Then he nodded.

         “Yes. He left two days ago and hasn’t come back.”

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deep.

         “Thank God”, he said from the bottom of his heart. 

Again Julio and Miranda exchanged a look.

         “There is something you should know”, Miranda said cautiously and instantly a cold feeling settled in the pit of Daryl’s stomach.   
         “He didn’t just leave”, she picked up. “He took your crossbow outside, so we could see what he was doing, and then he destroyed it and set the entire trailer on fire.”

Daryl pressed his lips together to a thin line, while Julio added:

         “When he left, he yelled that if his good-for-nothing sons wanted him gone, he’d be damned to leave anything behind.”

For a moment he considered saying that Will’s last words had been _“Hope they gonna go ta hell”,_ but he decided to keep that a secret. 

When Julio had fallen quiet, it was deadly silent in the room. Nobody dared say a word, while Daryl struggled with his contradicting emotions.    
That trailer had been a rundown, unpleasant place and way too many disturbing memories were connected to it. He’d been wanting to set it on fire himself more than once and it wasn’t a shame that it got destroyed.   
And yet – it had been home for the largest part of his life. It was all he had known, all he had had, and now it was gone.   
And the only thing Daryl had owned, his treasure, his pride and joy – the crossbow – was gone, too.    
Why did his father have to do that? Why couldn’t he just take that goddamn money and leave? Surely it was enough to buy more than one new trailer some place else and live a good life – at least until he had spent it all on alcohol and whores, but that wasn’t Daryl’s problem anymore. He had taken care of his old man for years and had endured more than anyone should ever have to bear. There was no need to destroy it all, to take it all away from him and Merle.    
The trailer was the only place Merle could have gone to after he got out of prison. And although Daryl didn’t need the crossbow anymore to survive – it had meant a lot to him and its loss hurt profoundly now. What did they ever do to deserve so much hate? 

Rick placing his arm around the older boy’s shoulders and giving him a reassuring hug, ended Daryl’s train of thought and with a sigh he looked up. 

         “Thanks for tellin’ me”, he just said. “’m gonna have ta tell Merle that he ain’t got no home no more.” 

         “That won’t be a problem for a while longer, right?” Miranda said openly. 

Then she rummaged in the bag she had brought and took a nicely wrapped present out, which she held out to Daryl. 

         “Got something for you”, she said with a smile.

Surprised he accepted it and then looked from one member of the Morales family to the next.

         “Thanks, but … I ain’t got nothin’ for ya …”

         “Never mind that”, Miranda waved the comment off. “This isn’t really a present. Just something we thought you might wanna have.”

With a frown Daryl started to unwrap the _non-present_ , curious now what this could be, and a moment later he gasped when he recognized the item inside. Tears pooled his eyes all of a sudden, while a smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the same time.

         “Hey”, Rick said with a smile, “the angel wing vest you used to wear.” 

The older boy ran his index finger almost tenderly over the wing applications, while he swallowed against the tears.

         “How …?”

         “Remember you asked me to do a few stitches to one of the wings the other day? Miranda replied softly. “I still had it when you … left and … and didn’t come back. I took good care of it. I know it means a lot to you.”

Biting his thumbnail, Daryl nodded before he said softly:

         “Thanks. This really means a lot.”

         “C’mon”, Rick prompted gently, “put it on.” And when Daryl did he added with a smile:   
“Now you look like _you_ again.”

         “What’s that supposed ta mean?”

         “Just that … well, you lost your wings there for a while, but now you’ve got them back, the way it should be.” He shrugged. “Told you I like that vest. It’s you.” 

         “He’s right”, Miranda agreed with a smile. “We’ve barely ever seen you without it and you're gonna leave some major impression with it in this neighborhood”, she winked. 

         “Yeah, I bet”, Daryl grumbled, but there was a hint of a grin when he said it. 

The rest of the evening passed in no time. The nine people present enjoyed their dinner and then sat in the living room together for a while in front of the ignited fireplace and festively lit tree, munching more candy, singing Christmas songs and laughing a lot. They may have come from different sides of town, but where it counted these people weren’t so unlike – they had all of them their hearts in the right place.   
Before the Morales and the doctor left, Catherine gave a small present to each of the Mexican children and was delighted to see bright eyes and wide smiles on the small faces, before both of them gave her a hug.

         “Thank you, Mrs. Grimes.”

         “Catherine”, she said with a smile. “But you’re not to open them until tomorrow morning.”

         “Oh”, Miranda cut in, “in Mexico people celebrate Christmas for several weeks with posadas and pinatas and the traditional family celebration is on Christmas Eve.”   
She looked a little sad for a moment.   
         “We don’t have any family around here, so there was no posadas and pinatas, so if you don’t mind …”

         “Not at all”, Catherine said. “Tonight or tomorrow – it’s Christmas. I hope you’ll like your gifts.”

She was aware of the fact that many of their neighbors would have raised their eyebrows disapprovingly now, thinking _“We’re not in Mexico here and these people should respect our traditions, if they live in our country.”_   
Narrow-minded souls, all of them. Without people from Mexico and Europe and countless other places, this nation wouldn’t even exist. After all, wasn’t it someone from Italy who discovered this continent? And who had been the first people, next to the native Indians, populating it? This mixture of traditions and customs, beliefs, languages and races made this country what it was today and they all had best remember that. 

They said their good-byes after that and Miranda was visibly struggling when she hugged Daryl.

         “Good luck, carino. I hope you come visit us some day.”

         “I will”, he promised. 

Daryl, Rick, Cathy and Jim stood on the front porch and waved after Hershel’s car, when the doctor drove down the street to take the Morales back to _Terminus._   
This had been one of the happiest Christmas Eves he had ever had and he was thankful for it.   
It was on days like this that Hershel missed his late wife the most. Josephine had been the love of his life, but she had lost the battle against cancer twenty years ago and they hadn’t been blessed with children. Hershel never remarried. There was only one ‘love of one’s life’ and he had found and lost his.   
The past two decades Christmas had been quiet and lonesome – the only friends to keep him company his cats Maggie and Beth.    
He wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams to ever celebrate a Christmas with one of the Dixon boys, a Mexican family from _Terminus_ and the family of a lawyer from Trenton, New Jersey. And somehow he had the impression that it had been the happiest Christmas for all of these people – thanks to Daryl Dixon.    
He was the link. He connected them. He brought out the best in all of them, because he was one of the good things in this world. And he probably didn’t even realize it.

The boy was wearing those wings by rights. Maybe sometimes angels appeared in disguise, especially at Christmas. 


	17. Chapter 17

When Daryl opened the door of his room on Christmas morning to head down for breakfast, he saw Catherine come out of the room down the corridor. _The_ room. 

It still was not renovated and as long as his wife didn’t request it, Jim was reluctant to rebuild the shrine for their late son. He knew that she had placed a framed picture of Jeff on the floor with a candle in front of it and once in a while she would light it and spend some time in there. But those times grew fewer and fewer and it never pulled her down the way it used to. 

When she noticed Daryl stand in front of his door waiting for her, Catherine felt awkward for having been _caught_ coming out of that room once again, but the teenager just looked at her calmly with a silent understanding in his eyes.   
Neither of them said a word. There was no reason for that. When she reached him, he just gave her a hug and placed a kiss on her cheek and when she started to smile, they both knew that things were going to be alright.    
Sometimes Cathy wondered if Ronan Keating had someone like Daryl in mind when he wrote the lyrics to that _Notting Hill_ song, because this boy, like no one else Catherine had ever known, was able to speak with his soul.    
_ You _ _say it best when you say nothing at all._

When they came into the living room, Jim and Rick were already there, both in comfortable sweat pants and sweaters, thick woolen socks and their first cup of coffee in hand.    
While Jim lovingly pecked his wife’s lips, Rick hugged Daryl and held him close for a moment.

         “Merry Christmas”, both Grimes men said simultaneously and had both Cath and Daryl smile.

         “Ditto”, the archer answered for both of them and then let go of Rick.

Catherine turned to her son and hugged him, while the two of them watched Jim and Daryl out the corner of their eye.    
There was still some tension between Rick’s father and the new member of the family, a kind of awkwardness and diffidence of which Daryl was definitely the source. He looked at Jim in a ‘ _I want to, but I can’t’_ manner and the man was wise not to push matters. So once more he held up his hand now and with a grin Daryl gave him another high-five.   
Catherine and Rick looked at each other with a smile. This was about to become a running gag between Daryl and Jim and in time it might be more intimate than any handshake or hug could possibly be, because it was a special gesture between the two of them, a touch that carried a message and meant more to them than it did to anyone else. 

         “I know we said there’d be no presents”, Cathy said unexpectantly. “But since this is Daryl’s first Christmas with us, I thought the occasion called for a gift nevertheless. Let’s just say it’s a welcome gift rather than a Christmas present.”

She picked up a neatly wrapped package from her recliner and with a wide smile held it out to the Daryl. Rick grew pale.    
He knew the size, and the way it gave way when his friend’s hands squeeze it left no doubt about its texture. She wouldn’t. No, she wouldn’t. Not one of those embarrassing hand-knitted sweaters she had tortured him with for years! _That_ could impossibly be Daryl’s welcome-and-first-Christmas-with-the-Grimes present.

Catherine noticed the expression on her son’s face and her smile faded.    
All of a sudden she felt bad about this present and almost dreaded Daryl to open it. She was well aware of the fact that Rick had never appreciated her sweaters and didn’t wear them, ever. They lay piled up way in back of his closet and if he dared, he would probably have put them in the trash a long time ago or given them to charity.    
         Maybe this had been a bad idea. Daryl was almost seventeen and a hand-knitted sweater was probably the most _uncool_ thing she could have given to him. He would hate it, would be embarrassed just like Rick had always been. All of a sudden she felt like crying. This would probably ruin the entire day.

Daryl had sat down on the couch, the present on his thighs, and carefully, as though there was a bomb inside, he opened the bow attached and started to peel off the sticky tape. 

         “Just rip it open”, Jim prompted, which earned him a surprised glance from the teenager.

         “Why? ‘s gonna ruin the nice paper ‘n’ ya can use it again if I’m bein’ careful.” 

The three Grimes exchanged a glance. Reuse wrapping paper? They sure had never done a thing like that in all their life. Usually there had been a pile of ripped paper all over the place after Christmas and birthdays and it had all gone straight into the trash without anyone giving it a second thought.    
It was just gift wrap. _Just beechnuts. Just a hanky. Just a bottle of Nobite._   
Rick watched his friend cautiously peeling off the first stripe of tape and suddenly felt like the Grinch on Christmas Day when his heart swelled two sizes.    
The moment the paper came off, everybody held their breath for one or the other reason. It _was_ a sweater. The blue one Catherine had been knitting during the past weeks and now both she and Rick were waiting for Daryl to pull a face or put on a stony façade to not let show how ugly he thought that thing was.    
Gently, as though it could break, Daryl unfolded it and held it up to get a better look. Then a wide, clearly moved smile spread over his face.

         “Did Rick tell ya?” he asked with happily shining eyes. 

Catherine let out her breath in a relieved sigh, while Rick looked at his friend in amazement. Did he _really_ like it!?   
The woman nodded, while Daryl turned the sweater around for Rick and Jim to see the front. The younger boy’s eyes widened. Dear God, there was some animal on the front as though Daryl was five years old. Then he got it.

         “Is that …?” he started, while the older boy nodded enthusiastically. 

         “The white roebuck, yes.”

         “That’s a stag”, Rick commented dryly.

Daryl’s smile vanished and made room for an annoyed expression when he noticed the confusion on Catherine’s face.

         “And ya woulda known the difference ‘fore ya saw one first time in yer life, huh?” 

Rick lowered his eyes.

         “Probably not”, he admitted.

         “There’s a difference?” Catherine asked insecurely.

         “Just minor”, Daryl replied and left it at that.

Saying there was only a minor difference between a roebuck and a stag was like saying that about a Chihuahua and a German Shepard. But technically they _were_ both dogs, so why make it an issue that there was more than a minor difference in size and appearance? 

He got up and pulled the woman into a hug.

         “I love it. Thank ya so much. ‘s perfect.”  

With a happy giggle she hugged him back. 

         “I’m so glad you like it. Wanna try it on?”

         “Sure.”

Instantly Daryl pulled the sweatshirt he was wearing over his head and put the new sweater on. Catherine looked at it critically.

         “It’s a little tight across the chest, isn’t it? Apparently you and Rick don’t have quite the same size.”

         “Nah, ‘s perfect like I said.”

 

After breakfast he headed up to his room with Rick in tow, so they could read some more of _The_ _Neverending Story_. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Rick said softly:

         “Thanks.”

Daryl cast him a surprised glance.

         “For what?”

         “Making my mom think that you really like the sweater.”

         “’s ‘cause I do”, Daryl growled, his eyes narrowing. “What’s yer problem, man? Ya keep makin’ shitty remarks ‘bout ma sweater, so let’s hear it. What’s wrong with it?” 

         “There’s a _deer_ on the front, Daryl.” 

         “Ain’t just a deer – ‘s supposed ta be the white roebuck ‘n’ she knew ‘twas special. Besides, each football season countless peeps ‘round here, includin’ you ‘n’ yer dad, are wearin’ sweaters with a _bird_ on the front, so where’s the difference?”

Rick frowned with an amused sparkle in his eyes.  
          
         “That’s sports, Daryl. You can’t compare the Philly Eagles to some …”

         “What? To a _live_ animal that’s more beautiful than any other I’ve ever seen? That really _means_ somethin’ to me? That I exclusively showed ta _you_ ‘cause I thought ‘twas special to ya, too? And ya know what – this ’s the first piece a’ clothin’ I ever owned that no one else ever wore before. Ain’t a hand-me-down from ma older brother or some second-hand store or a charity bin. Yer momma spent _weeks_ knittin’ this sweater for me. For _me._ No one ever did anythin’ like that for me before, so tell me a single reason _not_ ta love it.” 

The amused sparkle had long since disappeared from Rick’s eyes and had made room for a disconcerted and shamed expression.    
More than any fancy present in the world, he would have loved the ability to see things through Daryl’s eyes, to have his friend’s empathy and sensibility. It was Christmas and on this of all days he had hurt his mother once again, hadn’t been able to see what this sweater really meant.    
He didn’t even have words anymore. So many times before he had apologized for inconsiderate behavior like this, had chided himself, had promised to do better in the future, but he had messed up again.   
Maybe this wasn’t something a person could learn. No matter how hard he tried, maybe he would never change, would always follow the wrong tracks with his train of thought. Not everybody deserved to have wings, not everybody was born an angel.    
There were people like him, who needed one by their side to find their way.

Daryl noticed his friend’s inner turmoil, saw the shame and confusion that left Rick at a lack for words.    
The silence was almost deafening, while the two boys stood in front of each other, lost in the other one’s eyes as though they would find the answers to all the questions there that they hadn’t even dared ask yet.    
There was a silent scream in Rick’s cerulean orbs and Daryl could hear it.    
This wasn’t about a sweater, this was about stumbling and losing the way time and again. About having it all and yet nothing. About longing for someone to show the way, someone to share the load, _someone_ …    
Daryl’s heart beat faster when he was pulled into Rick’s gaze, into the vortex of emotions and thoughts he saw behind his friend’s eyes. The answer was so easy, as was the question. He _knew_ , just like Rick did – they had both known for quite a while now. But instead of just giving in and allowing their hearts to rule their minds, they had either run away or had been hiding behind denial.

Unexpectedly Daryl placed his hands gently to either side of Rick’s face.

         “Stop thinkin' 'n' just let go”, he whispered, before he leaned in and touched his lips to Rick’s in a feathery kiss. 

The younger boy felt as though an electrical charge flashed through his body and it left a tingly sensation all the way down to the tips of his toes, although Daryl had pulled back immediately.    
Rick’s only Christmas wish had just come true, the one thing he had dreamed of and longed for without daring to hope for it to ever happen. He had wanted to kiss or be kissed by Daryl so many times, without daring to wrap his mind around this notion, and now the dream had become reality.    
Daryl had made the first step and was waiting for Rick’s reaction now, nervously playing with his fingers.    
This might have been the start of something new, something magical, something wonderful. Or the end of it all.     
If he had read the signs right, this was what Rick wanted, too. If he was wrong, he was likely to lose a friend, a brother any second now. He hadn’t been thinking. This may have been the biggest mistake he ever made.    
The next moment Rick’s hand reached out, got hold of the front of the new sweater and pulled Daryl close. Their lips connected instantly and Rick’s arms reached around his friend and held him close the moment he felt the archer respond and kiss him harder. Daryl’s fingers got entwined in the other boy’s curls and he pressed against the slim body as though he meant to crawl into him.    
Their first kiss ever. There was nothing in the world that held more magic than to kiss one’s first love for the very first time.    
The way they nibbled on the other one’s lips and kissed with their teeth connecting more often than not was endearingly clumsy and inexperienced, and yet their hearts were racing and adrenalin was rushing through both bodies and left the boys in a state of high.    
Both of them flinching and giving a yelp of pain suddenly ended the magical moment and broke them apart.    
His mind clearly on standby mode Rick had hugged Daryl too tightly and hurt the still healing wounds on his friend’s back, which had the archer make a sudden careless motion and bump his chin against Rick’s broken nose.    
They stood in front of each other now, looking confused and entranced, guilty and happy at the same time. 

         “’m sorry”, Daryl said barely audible, but Rick waved the excuse off while he touched his nose cautiously.

         “Still attached”, he tried to lighten the sudden tension with a joke, but it fell flat.

         “’s not what I meant”, Daryl replied and his voice sounded as though he almost choked on the words. 

         “Oh.” The smile simply dropped off Rick’s face and made room for a hurt expression. “But you … you just started this. I thought … I …”    
He stopped, struggling for words.   
         “Well, if you thought it was a mistake then I guess I’m sorry, too.” 

          “Ya don’t understand. I wasn’t thinkin’. I shouldn’t have …”

         “Yeah? Why not?” Rick ask straight out. “’Cause I’m a guy and this is against some Dixon rule?”

         “Nah, ‘cause it’s probably against every Grimes rule.”

That caught Rick off guard and he stared at Daryl with wide eyes.

         “Rick, yer parents gave me the chance a’ ma life ‘n’ when they took me in, their plan was for us ta be brothers, no more. Whadda ya think they gonna say, if they find out that …that the two of us … Damn.”   
He threw his hands in the air in a helpless gesture.   
         “No one’s ever gonna gimme another chance like this. And I got no place left ta go. I can’t risk losin’ it all. Couldn’t bear never seein’ ya again, so …

         “You rather want me as just a brother than not at all?” Rick asked sadly, swallowing against a lump in his throat.

Daryl nodded with the same sad expression.

         “’m sorry I started somethin’ I shouldn’t have. ‘twasn’t planned. Just happened.”

         “I know. And I understand what you’re saying, but … but … I don’t feel like a brother for you.”

         “Neither do I. Tell ya the truth, I dunno what ‘m feelin’ – ‘s all new, I never felt nothin’ like this before ‘n’ I … I …” 

Rick couldn’t help himself and took a step closer to him again, gently cupping his friend’s face and caressing the cheek bone with his thumb. Daryl allowed the touch, _wanted_ that touch, needed it, although it was exactly what he was just trying to reason against. 

         “Just tell me one thing, Daryl. That kiss – did it feel _wrong_ to you in any way?” 

The older boy breathed in deep and released the air with a heavy sigh. His eyes were burning when he shook his head after a moment of silence.  
          
         “Nah. ‘twas the most beautiful thing I ever felt.”

Rick leaned his forehead against Daryl’s, while he wrapped his arms around him.

         “Same here”, he said softly. “So how can this be wrong?”

         “I ain’t sayin’ ‘s wrong in ma eyes. I just doubt anyone else‘s gonna understand or appreciate it. ‘specially not yer parents. Yer the only son they got left ‘n’ I’m sure they got plans for ya. Probably want ya ta have a wife ‘n’ kids in the future, good job, nice house like this – ya know, live a _normal_ life. Bet ya, gettin’ involved with yer foster brother sure ain’t on their _Things we’d want for Rick_ list. 

         “Maybe me being happy no matter what is on the _Things we’d want for Rick_ list. Maybe we should give them a chance to make their own decision.”

Daryl pulled back and looked his friend sternly in the eyes.

         “And if ya wrong?”

In helpless frustration Rick started pacing the room.    
Was this ever going to stop? During the past months his only concern had been Daryl’s safety, a way to get him out of _Terminus_ and away from his father. For a while there it had appeared as though that would always be just wishful thinking, but now that they had found the perfect solution, there were new clouds on the horizon, new problems, new heartaches.    
All they wanted was to be happy, _together._ Was that too much to asked? 

         “Whadda you wanna do then?”

There was an incredibly pained expression on Daryl’s face now. 

“I want us ta wait for a while till we’re sure ‘s not just some damn hormones actin’ up or a fleetin’ emotion we gonna laugh about in a month or so.”

Rick sucked in the air audibly.

         “Think that’s what it is – _damn hormones_ or just a _fleeting_ emotion?”

Daryl pressed his lips together and shook his head.

         “Nah, but I ain’t got no choice”, he croaked out. “Friends ‘n’ brothers – that’s something, isn’t it?” 

         _“_ That’s a lot”, Rick replied.    
“ _But not enough”,_ he thought with a heavy heart, but he understood Daryl’s reasoning and would have to respect it.

It was Daryl’s fate that was at stake here and as much as he wanted to believe that his parents were tolerant, open-minded people, he wasn’t entirely sure. This family had gone through so much in the past, Rick couldn’t tell how much more it was able to shoulder.    
So after a hesitant moment he nodded slowly.

         “Wait here a second”, he said, before he headed to his room.

He returned with a small package a moment later. When he held it out to Daryl the archer couldn’t help pulling a face.

         “Which part of _‘I don’t want no Christmas presents’_ ya folks ain’t gettin’?”

         “It’s not a Christmas present – just another welcome present”, Rick said softly, his heavy heart and confused emotions even audibly in his voice now.

With a sigh Daryl accepted the gift and started opening it in the same slow and careful way as before. Just for split second Rick wondered, if Daryl would be this slow and gentle in other situations, too.    
What would it feel like to be held by him at night, to be kissed by him time and again, to have his hands run over Rick’s skin, caress him, touch parts of his body that have never been touched by anyone else before?    
Only an hour ago these thoughts would have caused a reaction in his pants, no doubt, but now he only felt as though a cold hand grabbed his heart and squeezed.    
Maybe he would never know what loving Daryl in a physical way felt like, because while people claimed this to be the 21st century, the larger part of mankind was still stuck in the middle ages. And even people who were open-minded and tolerant when it came to _others,_ turned into inquisitors when _it_ concerned members of their own family.    
Daryl may be right and coming out would destroy it all, end what had just started and cause more bad than good. It was just frustrating, to say the least.

         “Just rip it open already”, Rick snapped, when Daryl’s fiddling about got on his nerves.

The older boy stopped what he was doing and gave his friend a scrutiny.

         “Why are ya so angry?” 

Rick ran both hands through his curls and sighed.

         “I’m not angry – I’m frustrated. It’s just not fair. I mean, we’re not doing anything wrong and in times like these this … “, he gestured between the two of them, “should be just as normal and accepted as us dating some girls.”

         “Yer right. Two guys datin’ ain’t hurtin’ no one. Just like bein’ poor and wearin’ ragged clothes. And yet ya bein’ judged ‘n’ looked down at for either. ‘Cause _these times_ ain’t any different than all the times before. There’s always gonna be prejudiced people, who judge a book by its cover.”

         “Speaking of which.” Rick pointed to the present in Daryl’s hand.

         “Hey, now ya spoiled the surprise”, the older boy joked in the attempt to lighten the mood.

It was most obviously a book, even without having the gift unwrapped. When the paper finally came undone, a wide smile spread over Daryl’s face. 

         “ _The Neverending Story_?” he said softly, while he ran a finger gently over the cover.

         “I thought since it’s your favorite book, you should have your own copy. This is the hardcover with the green and red writing and I … I …”   
Unexpectedly he pulled Daryl into a hug.   
         “I hope your story is gonna end well.”

         “’s _our_ story now, Rick.”

         “Yeah? Well, I meant the book.”

That brought a sad smile to Daryl’s face.

         “Sure.” He ran his hand gently over the other boy’s back. “Thank you. It’s a beautiful present.”

Rick pulled back a little and looked him in the eyes. They still had their arms around each other and their faces were so close that their lips almost touched … The next second Daryl took a step back. 

         “They wouldn’t know”, Rick said in an almost whiny inflection. “We can keep it a secret. No one would …”

         “Nah. I ain’t goin’ behind yer parents' back. ‘s gonna backfire. They oughta hear it from us ‘n’ not find out accidentally after we’ve been pretendin’ ‘n’ kept this from them.”

         “For how long?” 

         “Damnit, Rick, if I had all the answers, we wouldn’t have this conversation.  I dunno! Dunno nothin' no more.  I’m just as confused ‘n’ frustrated as you are, but don’t ya understand that this ‘s the only way, man? 

Rick’s jaw muscles clenched visibly, but a moment later he nodded hesitatingly.

         “Now or two months or two years from now – I know how I feel for you and it’s not gonna change.”  
          
Daryl cast him a sad look. 

         “We’ll see.” 


	18. Chapter 18

When the doorbell rang, Catherine jumped visibly.    
It was two days after Christmas and she had spent the larger part of the morning sitting at the dining room table with Daryl, pondering over math problems with more or less modest success.   
Although it wasn’t a nice thing to bring up over the holidays, Jim and Cath had dared raise the subject ‘school’ and had voiced their wish for Daryl to attend the same school as Rick from now on. Their suggestion had been answered by Daryl fiercely shaking his head and protesting.

          “Nah. I can’t.”

          “Wanna tell us why?” Jim had replied calmly. “Do you like your old school so much?”

         “Yeah, right”, Daryl had answered sarcastically. “Ain’t been there often enough ta like it _so much._ ”

         “Oh”, Catherine had slipped. “Well, why don’t we get your reports and then speak to the principal of Rick’s school and see what he says.” 

         “Waste a’ time. Can tell ya what he’s gonna say. – ‘With a report like that, this boy’s apparently dumb as a post and he don’t fit into our fine upper class school’.” 

Jim and Catherine had exchanged a look and then the man had said cautiously:

         “The real problem is that you don’t feel like you belong, right?”

         “Yeah, whatever”, Daryl had answered defensively.

         “Daryl”, Jim had leaned forward in his chair. “You need to shed the opinion that you’re second class or worth less than other people. That’s just not true.”

         “Tell _them_ that”, the boy had answered with a bitter inflection, waving into a random direction that stood for all the people _out there._

         “I will. I did. You’re part of this family now and …”

         “That don’t make me no Grimes.”

         “There’s no need for that”, the man had replied gently. “You were every bit as good as we are even before you came to us. We don’t take in just anybody, you know. It’s a shame that you can’t see what a great person you are. – That school should be honored to have you there.”   
He shrugged.   
         “We are.”

Daryl’s eyes had widened.

         “Jeez, man, ma pa woulda puked first ‘fore he’d ever said sappy stuff like that.”    
He had lowered his eyes and despite himself had added almost inaudibly:   
         “’s nice.” 

In the end they had decided to give it a try.    
No doubt Daryl had a lot of catching up to do and maybe his grades and educational level were too low to meet the requirements of that school, but they’d not give up that easily.    
Catherine had asked Rick to give her all his books and notes, so they could see if Daryl had any clue whatsoever about the current subjects, and she had decided to grab the bull by the horns and start with the worst topic of all – math.    
The moment the teenager had seen all those figures, symbols and graphs, his eyes had become large as saucers.

         “The hell’s that?” he had asked. “Looks like a bunch a’ chicken with dirty feet ran all over that piece a’ paper. Ain’t never seen most a’ ‘em symbols.” 

         “Oookaaay”, she had said with a very bad feeling deep down inside. “But you know about chicken. That’s a start.”   
With a smile she had nudged his shoulder.   
         “Maybe we should start with biology?”

         “Ya gonna tell me ‘bout ‘em birds ‘n’ bees, too?” he had replied, grinning inwardly when he noticed her ears turn a deeper shade of red. 

         “Tell me you’re kidding”, she had said hesitatingly and let out a sigh of relief when he broke out laughing.

For the moment they had dismissed math, because at second sight Catherine had to admit that she just couldn’t solve those problems herself. It had been too long since she had last seen all that and somehow Daryl was right – those symbols _did_ look as though a bunch of chicken had run over that paper.    
They went through all of Rick’s notes to get an overview and each time Daryl said “Hey, I know that” or “That looks familiar”, it was a small victory. But the war was far from being won. They needed help. 

When the doorbell rang Catherine had been concentrating on Rick’s interpretation of some Shakespeare sonnet, wondering why the heck people even bothered to _interpret_ a poem.   
Why was it important to find out what the author may or may not have meant to express? No one would ever know for sure and they couldn’t ask him anymore, so why waste time on something like that?    
Some people deeply admired Shakespeare and loved his work, others thought he must have been completely nuts and found it annoying as hell that he spoke in riddles, instead of just saying what he had to say. They claimed maybe the guy had been stoned when he wrote his books and poems and didn’t have anything to say at all, while others reasoned those messages weren’t just meant for any idiot, who couldn’t see their deeper meaning.    
And so, more than four hundred years after the man’s death, students were tortured with analyses and people were in each other’s hair trying to find the deeper meanings, instead of just reading those works and deciding for themselves whether they liked them or not.    
Wasn’t that what literature was all about? What _everything_ was about? There was no accounting for taste and one person’s white, was another person’s black.

Catherine was just about to comment, that the deeper message obviously ran ‘zebra’, when the doorbell ended her train of thought.

         “Jim, honey, could you …?” she called into the house, before she remembered that Jim and Rick weren’t home.

She had sent them to run some errands in order to have peace and quiet and no distraction around the house. Something was in the air, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.   
Some of the carefreeness around the two boys had disappeared and they didn’t laugh anymore the way they used to. In only few days there was a palpable change, a tension that hadn’t been there before, but when she had asked her son if he had had a row with Daryl, Rick had just shook his head and said: “No, don’t know what you mean”.    
Well, she’d find out, sooner or later. She was a mother. Mother’s always found out, sooner or later. 

         “I’ll be right back”, she said to Daryl, while she stood and went about answering the door.

When she opened it, a woman of about thirty with short reddish-blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes stood on the front porch, a plate in her hand.

         “Hello, Catherine”, she said with a smile. “Merry belated Christmas.”

         “Carol”, the older woman replied surprised. “To you, too.”

         “Brought you some homemade cookies.” 

Carol held the plate out to Catherine, which had the surprise on her face even increase.    
Miss Peletier was one of Rick’s teachers and lived a few houses down the street, so they knew each other and had occasionally exchanged a few words, but it would be exaggerated to say they were friends. They had never spent any time with each other, had never visited at the other one’s house, they didn’t exchange birthday wishes or brought homemade cookies on Christmas. Or _after_ Christmas. Or any other time. And the way Carol was fidgeting showed that something was up. 

         “Thanks”, Catherine accepted the gift. “Would you like to come in?” 

         “If you don’t mind. Just for a moment.” 

As soon as they were both standing in the hallway and the door was closed behind them, Carol said straight out:

         “No sense in beating around the bush. The neighbors asked me to talk to you.” 

         “I see.” Catherine felt her defense mode kick in instantly and straightened up.   
“And what about, if I may ask?”

         “Well”, the younger woman started cautiously. “Tobin mentioned an incident the other day …”

         “I’ve got a licence for that shotgun”, Cathy cut in instantly. “And I know how to handle it. My father was a cop and I was on the range with him since I was six, so there is no need to be alarmed.”

Carol pulled in a deep breath.

         “Actually, this is not about having a gun or rifle. You’d be surprised … or maybe not … how many people around here do. Anyway, I’ve heard you have someone new living with you?”

The expression in Catherine’s eyes grew piercing now as annoyance rose inside of her.    
They had got to be kidding her. People owning weapons and showing up in the street with them, in a development where families with children lived, _that_ had nobody worried at all. But _Daryl_ moving in with them apparently was the talk of the town and everybody’s deepest concern. 

         “That is correct”, she answered in a defensive inflection. “Do I need the neighbors’ permission to have someone living with my family?” 

         “Of course not”, Carol answered with a soothing gesture. “It’s just … that boy’s presence caused the incident with the shotguns, I heard.”

         “Tell Tobin he’s a damn gossip queen and had better mind his own business.”

         “It’s not just Tobin. People are concerned. Your son’s been seen with that boy and … well, the neighbors think he doesn’t fit in here. He mingled with the trick-or-treaters on Halloween dressed up in a gross zombie costume and scared the kids ...”

         “Well”, Catherine put her hands to her hips, “since there are no _kids_ on my doorstep complaining, but a messenger sent by their parents, I assume it was not the children that were scared. Would I have the same complaints, if it had been Rick out there dressed up? Would we have this conversation at all, if the boy living with us now had showed up in Armani?”

Carol raised her hands, visibly feeling uncomfortable.

         “Don’t shoot the messenger, Catherine. I’m not saying _I_ was concerned, but they addressed me and asked me to talk to you. They can only judge by what they saw and no one knows what’s going on around this house. Now, I realize this is none of our business, but perhaps … you know, people could understand better, if …”

         “Come on”, Catherine said flatly and then grabbed Carol’s elbow to lead her to the dining room.  

         “Daryl”, she said to the teenager when blue eyes looked up in surprise, “this is Miss Peletier, one of our neighbors.”

         “Oh yeah”, he said, “the lady with the pretty flowers in the front yard.” 

Catherine pressed her lips together in order not to laugh.    
She had long since realized where her Thanksgiving bouquet had come from, but Daryl hadn’t meant anything by it. He just wanted to bring her some flowers and hadn’t had money to buy any, so he had picked the only ones available.    
In time he was going to find out that picking them in other people’s yards was a no-no, but this was barely the moment to tell him.    
She decided to rather change the subject quickly.

         “Carol brought us some cookies.”

She placed the plate on the table and Daryl’s eyes lit up. Candy was always welcome and so he picked up one of the chocolate-chip cookies and took a hearty bite.

         “’s nice a’ ya”, he said to Carol with his mouth still full. “Hmm, they’re good.” 

Despite herself Carol had to smile. That teenager looked like a too big kid, munching the cookie with happily shining eyes as though this was the first chocolate-chip cookie he ever had in all his life. 

         “I’m glad you like it”, she said. 

         “Uh-huh. ‘s like cookie ‘n’ chocolate all in one. Never had nothing like this before.” 

The woman’s smile crumbled and she looked to Catherine with wide eyes. He was kidding her, wasn’t he? When she saw the older woman raise her eyebrows, it dawned on her that this had not been a joke. 

         “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Catherine asked and Carol nodded.

         “Coffee, please.” 

         “Have a seat”, the blonde woman offered, pointing to a chair opposite from where Daryl was looking at Rick’s books again. “I’ll be right back.” 

And with that said she left her neighbor and her new son alone. 

It was quiet in the room for a moment, then Daryl looked up and reached for another cookie.

         “Don’t tell Catherine I’s takin’ another one, kay? ‘s lunch time soon ‘n’ she hates it if I eat candy ‘fore mealtimes.” 

Carol smiled and made the gesture of someone zipping their lips, while Daryl stuffed the cookie in his mouth.

         “You’re studying?” she asked, while he was chewing quickly and swallowing too soon, as though he had to wolf the cookie down before Catherine came back. 

He coughed when a crumb when down the wrong pipe, but as soon as he had composed himself he nodded. 

         “Gotta. I’m supposed ta go ta yer school in January, but I got lots a’ catchin’ up to do.” 

         “Which school did you attend before?” she asked friendly.

When he said the name, she swallowed and tried to keep a straight face. No wonder he had some catching up to do.

         “Ain’t the school”, Daryl added when he noticed her stony façade. “Most a’ ‘em teachers were even nice ta me ‘n’ tried ta help, but I guess … well, maybe ‘m just too stupid. Or ‘s ‘cause I ain’t gone there as often as I should.”

Carol cocked her head and looked at him calmly. The eyes that looked back at her were bright and vivid and somehow she had the feeling that a lack of intelligence was far from being the problem.

         “Why didn’t you go there regularly?” 

Somehow she had the feeling that this would get her to the core of the problem. He wasn’t dumb, he probably was just lazy. She had seen enough teenagers from underprivileged families in her times as a teacher and in most cases they just prefered to hang out with equally lazy friends, did drugs and alcohol and wasted their wits on criminal activities. 

         “I’s huntin’”, he said, a sad look in his eyes all of a sudden.

         “Hunting?” She wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than what she had expected. “Do you like it?” 

         “’twasn’t a hobby, lady. Ya here ta ask me questions?”

         “I would like to get to know you, since you live in my neighborhood now.”

His eyes narrowed.

         “Ya go make courtesy calls each time new peeps move in? Then how come ya wasn’t here when the Grimes moved in?”

She looked at him flabbergasted.

         “How would you know I wasn’t …?”

         “’cause Catherine said no one was ever here ta visit. In all a’ ‘em months they ‘s livin’ here, no one ever offered any help or gave a damn. So, why don’t ya tell me the truth now. Ya here ta check the dude from _Terminus_ out, right?”

Carol swallowed thickly, totally surprised by the boy’s straightforwardness. He had looked right through her and that impressed her as much as it took her off guard.

         “Alright, fair enough”, she replied after breathing in deep. “I didn’t know you were from _Terminus,_ but people saw you on Halloween and the other day when Catherine had to threaten that man with a gun …”

         “’twas ma pa.” The shadow blue eyes were lowered. “Let’s just say he ain’t a good person ‘n’ bad people do bad things.”

A cold feeling settled in the pit of Carol’s stomach.

         “Rick, Jim ‘n’ Catherine – they got me out, gave me a nice home. Rick ‘n’ me”, he looked up with a fond expression in his eyes, “we’re brothers now. I know people ‘round here are afraid a’ me, just ‘cause I come from a shitty neighborhood. But that don’t make me no shitty person. Just like not everybody ‘round here’s probably nice just ‘cause their house is.”

The woman looked at him, deeply impressed and ashamed alike. She’d be lying, if she said she hadn’t had her prejudices, too. But this boy didn’t even come close to what she had expected. 

         “Do you still go hunting?” 

         “Nah. Ma pa … he destroyed ma crossbow when he left, but I ain’t gotta hunt no more now anyway. ‘s nice ta always have food in the fridge, ya know. And even if we was out – Jim ‘n’ Cath, they’d just run down to the store ‘n’ buy more.”   
He lowered his eyes and tugged at the cuticle of his thumb.   
         “Ain’t never known it that way. Before … with ma ol’ man – I hadda provide or go hungry and … and … if there was no food or booze, he’d … he … let’s just say _he was_ a shitty person.”

Carol gasped audibly and felt like someone had punched her in the guts. The message had come across. Abuse!    
A sound from behind her had her look to the doorway where Catherine stood with two steaming mugs of coffee in her hand and a meaningful look in her eyes. Before Carol could say anything, Daryl’s voice drew her attention once again.

“’m sorry ‘bout yer flowers, Miss Peletier.” 

“Carol”, the teacher corrected, before asking with a frown: “What flowers?”

“The pretty ones in yer front yard that disappeared on Thanksgivin’.”

An amused sparkle came to the woman’s blue eyes.

         “ _Disappeared_ … yes, they did indeed. Why do I have the feeling that you know what happened to them?” 

         “’cause I do”, he said, awkwardly squirming on his chair. “I picked ‘em.”

         “You _picked_ them?”

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the table top, not daring to meet the woman’s eyes.

         “Uh-huh. I’s invited ta dinner ‘n’ Miranda said I’s supposed ta bring flowers. They was the only ones I found ‘n’ I didn’t know … didn’t know yer not supposed ta pick flowers in people’s yards. Ain’t nobody havin’ no yard in _Terminus_ ‘n’ no flowers, either.”

Carol looked at Catherine, who was in between embarrassment and amusement, undecided which would be appropriate. Despite knowing where her Thanksgiving bouquet had come from, Cathy still found this totally endearing.    
As did Carol. It was just flowers. They would grow again next year, but that boy had meant to bring flowers to the lady of this house to thank her for the invitation. Probably the first dinner invitation of his life.

         “You know”, Carol said gently, while she place her hand on Daryl’s arm, “Miranda is right. Don’t worry about it.” 

         “Ya ain’t mad?” he asked shyly and cast her an almost fearful look from under too long bangs. 

         “No”, the teacher replied, surprised about a sudden lump in her throat, “you meant well and there’s no harm done. Everything’s fine.” 

         “Thanks.” 

Catherine walked to the table and placed one of the mugs in front of Carol and then held the other one out to Daryl with a questioning glance.

         “Coffee, Daryl?”

With a thankful nod the boy accepted the beverage. 

         “Can I have some sugar?” he and Carol asked totally in sync, which had them look at each other with a surprised smile.

         “I have a sweet tooth, too”, she admitted while she winked at him and with a wide smile Catherine headed to the kitchen to get the sugar pot. 

Daryl cast the teacher a probing glance, surprised about himself. He had told her quite personal things right after meeting this woman for the very first time. He didn’t trust easy, but there was something about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but somehow he felt as though she understood.

         “Ya know”, he said as soon as Catherine was out the door. “’em people who sent ya ta do their dirty work – they’re talkin’ behind yer back, callin’ ya an ol’ spinster. Just thought ya should know.”

She took a sip from her coffee although there was no sugar in it yet and then, after putting it back down, just shrugged.

         “I know. – They’re wrong, but that gossip is easier to handle than the truth”, she answered flatly. “I was married a couple of years ago, but … well, let’s just say my husband was a shitty person, too.” 

She looked straight at the boy across the table and saw a reaction in his eyes that told her he caught her meaning.    
Carol was surprised about herself. She had never told anyone about her ex-husband Ed, about having been abused for years, yet this boy seemed to be a related soul and she trusted him instantly. He had been there, too, and he understood, knew about the humiliation and pain, about the fear to let anyone know, about – despite being the victim – feeling guilty. 

         “Sorry”, he said honestly.

         “Me too”, she replied and that was the last time they ever mentioned the _shitty persons_ in their life.

When Catherine came back in, a mug of coffee for herself in one hand and the sugar pot in the other, Carol had switched sides and sat next to Daryl, hunched over the school books. 

         “He’s got a lot of work ahead of him there”, the teacher commented to Cath, while the older woman sat down across the table. 

         “I know, but for the most part this is all Greek to me. I guess we will have to find someone to … “

         “You found them”, Carol cut in. “That is, if you want my help at all.” 

Catherine exchanged a look with Daryl and saw him nod eagerly with a wide smile on his face.

         “Well, I guess it’s settled then”, Carol said. “Sharpen the pencils – first thing tomorrow morning we're gonna go to work.” 

 

*******

 

When New Year’s Eve came, the house was humming with activity. Neighbors were running in and out to bring food, while Jim, Rick and Daryl were hanging party lights, arranged bar tables and chairs throughout the living room and started to put up a large party tent in the backyard.    
Before Carol had left a few days ago, she had secretly said to Catherine:

         “No matter what I tell people in this neighborhood about Daryl now, they won’t change their mind on my word alone. Throw a party. Let them get to know him. If they see for themselves what a wonderful person he is, that’ll calm the waves. Trust me.”

And thus it was done. Since they had never had a housewarming party, the Grimes decided to have one now and combine that with a New Year’s party. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.    
For a while there, Catherine had been afraid that no one would come. If people were prejudiced, they usually _liked_ being prejudiced and indulged in their gossip. Having to face Daryl and the threat of being proved wrong in everything they had said about him, would be shameful and spoil their future fun. Who were they to gossip about then? But after only one day more and more neighbors had accepted the invitation and promised to come, despite this being very short notice. They had even offered to take care of the food and to all contribute to the buffet, which had totally stunned Catherine.    
Rumor had it, that Carol had threatened the entire development to let their children fail her classes, if they all wouldn’t stop acting like a bunch of assholes. Officially Catherine didn’t know a thing about that, unofficially she was cracking up. Extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary measures. 

As soon as it grew dark out, the Grimes lit the party lights and started the music and soon more and more people piled into their house. It was a starry night, cold but dry with no new snow to fear and even inside the tent it was warm due to several electrical radiators.    
The amount of alcohol soon flowing freely would have put any Irish pub to shame, but people were having a good time, dancing, chatting, eating, and drinking even more.    
It was crowded in the house and loud – and a nightmare for Daryl. Each time one of the men, who had all of them had a drop too much already, raised their voice, he would flinch and panicky look for a way to run. This wouldn’t work. People were eyeing him more suspiciously than ever before and surely nothing he had said or done so far could possibly sway a single person. He felt trapped, surrounded, alone, _scared_.    
Catherine and Jim were busy seeing to each and every one of their guests and making sure everybody had a full glass at any time as though this was a drinking contest. For a while Carol had been there, but soon she had been enganged in conversations with the parents of her students and had either forgotten about Daryl or wasn’t able to escape the grasp of these people.    
Rick was nowhere to be seen.    
Ever since the events on Christmas he had kept his distance from  Daryl. They hadn’t continued reading their book and never spent time alone in either of their rooms anymore. During mealtimes when they sat next to each other, Rick made sure their legs and shoulders didn’t touch anymore the way they used to and there were no more hugs, not a single touch. Daryl’s heart was breaking a little more with each passing day.    
Maybe this was Rick’s way to respect his friend’s wish. And maybe he was frustrated enough to lash out and punish him that way, make him understand what it feels like to be put on hold. 

Daryl looked around the crowded living room and saw only strange faces. There was no one he knew and everybody was either talking among themselves or casting him curious looks out of the corner of their eye. The boy’s heart was beating frantically.    
Anyone with more self-confidence would have walked up to either group and just say “Hi, I’m Daryl. Nice to meet you.” But he wasn’t _anyone with more self-confidence_ – he was scared to death.    
A glass shattering close by had him jump and draw back, panic choking him all of a sudden. The moment his feet developed a mind of their own and he turned to run, a pair of hands on his shoulders stopped him. In the first impulse he struggled to get away, but then he looked straight into those familiar, cerulean eyes he loved so much and a wave of relief washed over him.    
Rick’s arms were around him the instant the younger boy noticed the fear in his friend’s eyes. 

         “Sssh”, he soothed, “nobody’s gonna hurt you.”    
“Unless they wanna get shot by my mom”, he joked and was satisfied when he felt Daryl chuckle. 

The archer hugged Rick back and indulged in the contact he had missed so achingly.

         “I missed ya”, he whispered, barely audible over the noise in the room. “Sorry, if I hurt ya.”

         “Whadda you talking about?” Rick asked with a confused frown.

         “I understand yer frustrated, but … ‘s like I said – I missed ya. We ain’t spendin’ no time together no more, ya never touch me, never hug me …”

Rick pulled back a little and looked at him with wide eyes.

         “But that’s what you wanted.”

         “Nah. I wanted a li’l time ‘fore we took the next step. Told ya we hadda be sure ‘bout this ‘fore I risk it all. Never said ya hadda treat me like a stranger now. – I just want ma brother back.”

The azure blue eyes closed for a moment, while Rick breathed in deep. When he opened them again, there was honest remorse in them.

         “I misunderstood, I’m sorry. It’s just … “ He took a quick look around, but there was no one in earshot. “I miss you. I wanna touch you and kiss you so badly that it hurts and I don’t know, if I’ll be able to draw a line.”

Before Daryl could answer, Jim and Catherine suddenly showed up next to the two teenagers.

         “There you are”, the woman said and got hold of Daryl’s hand the moment he and Rick had ended their hug.   
         “I’m gonna introduce you to everybody now and brag a little with my new son.” 

She grew pale the instant she had said it and tears pooled in her eyes suddenly.

         “I didn’t mean … God, that came out wrong”, she stammered. “As though I had replaced Jeff and …”

         “Cathy, no”, Daryl said gently. “He’d understand. We all know that he’ll always be yer baby ‘n’ no one’s ever gonna _replace_ him. No one here’s even gonna try.” 

Her tears dried before they had a chance to fall and she squeezed the teenager’s hand with a moved smile.

         “Jeff would have loved you”, she said. “And we – Rick, Jim and I – we love you, too, just so you know.” 

That said she gently pulled him along to introduce him to the neighbors, while Daryl cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Rick. He found him following a step behind, having his back although there was no actual danger, but he was _there_ nevertheless.    
They looked each other deep in the eyes for a moment and the expression in Rick’s sent a silent message:   
         _“She’s right.”_

As soon as they had met a couple of the neighbors and Daryl had been able to open up due to the new confidence he felt with Rick, Catherine and Jim by his side, things took a turn for the better.    
The hunter wasn’t a chatterbox and he was still reluctant to talk to all these strangers, but there were people who gave him a chance, smiled, asked him questions, tried to get to know him and one by one they fell like dominoes. It was hard to keep up resistance for long, because Daryl had the gift to say the _right_ things in only few words, things that both touched and impressed them.    
Before the old year ended Daryl had managed to sway most of these people without even realizing how and bit by bit he felt the knots in his stomach resolve.   
Ten minutes before midnight Catherine pushed a large bottle of champagne into her husband’s hands as well as Daryl and Rick’s and sent them around to fill people’s glasses, so everybody could toast the new year.    
When the ball had dropped at Times Square, the fireworks were lit and people started singing _Should old acquaintance be forgot_ , Rick and Daryl stood in front of each other and felt like crying.    
Around them couples were kissing and hugging and there was nothing they would have loved to do more right now, but they couldn’t.    
With a sigh, Rick held out his fist to Daryl and with a sad smile the older boy touched his own against his friend’s hand.

         “Brofist?” 

         “No, it’s more than that. Just like we’re more than brothers, but till the day we’re allowed to let it show, this will have to do.” 

Daryl pressed his lips together for a moment.

         “Ya think ‘s stupid what I’m askin’, right?” 

         “No. Not stupid. Just not necessary. But I’ve had my say and wasn’t able to change your mind, so we're gonna play it your way.”  
Once more he pulled the older boy into his arms and hugged him tight.  
         “Happy new year, _bro._ ”

         “Yeah, ditto”, Daryl replied and then pulled back a little to clink glasses with Rick. 

A giggle behind them had them turn to see Carol stand there watching them. 

         “You two must be magnetic or something. Each time I see you, you’re hugging.” 

The moment she had said that, both boys grew pale first and then blushed, which had her look from one to the other with a suspicious air on her pretty face.   
Could it be? Was there something going on between those two that went beyond friendship? 

         “Cheers”, she said, clinking glasses with both of them, before she looked at Daryl. “To getting rid of shitty people and finding those we deserve.”  

         “Good toast”, he smiled at her. “I’m sure ya gonna find the one ya deserve, too.” 

They took a sip from their champagne right before Jim and Catherine found them and there were more toasts, more hugs, more good wishes for the new year. Neighbors approached the Grimes and joined in, while Carol stood to the side and took a few more sips with a tiny smile playing around her lips.   
Maybe Daryl didn’t even realize it, but his way of replying had confirmed what she had suspected. 

         _“Ya gonna find the one ya deserve,_ too _.”_

So he had found his special someone already and it was more than obvious that this someone was Rick. 

         “To young love”, she whispered another toast into the noisy room, hoping that Daryl would be right and one day she’d find the one she deserved, too.   
 


	19. Chapter 19

Although the party had lasted until the early morning hours, Rick was up before the break of dawn, unable to go back to sleep. Instead of tossing and turning for hours, he had opted for calling it a night and rather got up to check his email account. There weren’t many people who would drop him a line, but he had to check nevertheless. 

There were four messages in his inbox – two were spam mail, one was from a girl at his old school, that Shane had secretly given Rick’s number to a year ago and who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and the fourth one was from Shane himself. 

Rick stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, reluctant to open his old friend’s email.   
Maybe it was just a simple “Happy New Year and, oh, by the way, Merry belated Christmas”, which was just like Shane and would annoy Rick just slightly. But somehow he had the feeling that this was _more_ , a longer message which, no doubt, would piss him off immensely. There was no other option. Shane had long since lost the ability to make Rick feel good, laugh, enjoy his messages and still consider that guy a friend. After all these years, Shane had become a stranger to him and more often than not Rick considered deleting the contact and forget about Shane Walsh altogether. But it wasn’t that simple to write a 12-year-old friendship off.   
With a snort he clicked on the control panel of his laptop and watched the email open.   
His pulse rate accelerating, Rick started to read:

         _Hey bro,_

_ how’s it hanging? Haven’t heard from you in a while and thought I check in to see what’s going on over there in Philly.  _

Rick started gritting his teeth. After all these months Shane should know that the Grimes weren’t living in Philly, but apparently all of Eastern Pennsylvania consisted of Philadelphia to him. It wouldn’t even surprise Rick, if Shane didn’t know the name of the town they were really living in. Had he ever looked it up on a map to see where his long-term friend was now? Probably not. 

_ You gonna miss hell of a New Year’s party here tonight, I can tell you that. There’s gonna be a shitload of hot broads and I’m planning to start the new year with at least two of them. Have you tried that yet? Man, I always wanted to have a threesome, but so far those chicks were just too damn prude. But tonight’s the night, bro, I feel it. Too bad you’re not gonna be here.  _

Rick breathed in deep to keep his rising anger at bay and not toss his laptop out of the window.   
The same shit as usual, the same topic, centered on Shane and his dick alone. Not a word about his family or a simple question about Rick’s family, although they had practically been adopted by each other’s parents. Christmas was totally forgotten or ignored and there were no good wishes for the new year. Girls and getting laid, that was the center of Shane’s world these days. Could this email get any more annoying than that?

_ Any news in that respect over there? Did you finally get your dick wet, too, or are you still a virgin, my man?  _

It could!   
Rick balled his fists and cursed modern technology, that didn’t even give him a chance to yell at a phone or rip a handwritten letter into little pieces. 

_ Hell, all of those girls in Philly can’t be plug-ugly and even if they were – as soon as the lights are out, they’re all the same, so go for it already. You don’t know what you’re missing. I expect to hear good news from you soon and wanna know every dirty little detail. _

_          Happy fucking New Year! _

_          Shane _

 

Once again Rick slammed the lid of his laptop down too hard and cursed under his breath.   
          
         “Asshole”, he growled. “Stupid, annoying, megahorny asshole.” 

He got up and stomped over to his bookshelf, where the photo of him and Shane was still sitting – despite it all, nevertheless, although … The next moment the photo along with the frame flew into the trash bin next to his desk and instantly Rick felt an immense wave of relief and satisfaction wash over him. Maybe it was easier to write a 12-year-old friendship off than he thought. 

Quietly he tiptoed through the adjoining bathroom and sneaked into the bedroom next door. He was drawn to his friend’s bedside by an unknown force and couldn’t do a thing about it – he _had_ to see Daryl now.   
Maybe Miss Peletier was right and they were magnetic, which was a nice thought actually. If there was anyone Rick would have wanted to be attracted to for the rest of his days, it was Daryl.   
Motionless and entirely soundless the younger boy stood next to the bedside of his friend, and by the light of the full moon that shone through the window he looked into the relaxed and peaceful features he had come to love. 

         _You don’t know what you’re missing._

_          “No, you jackass”,  _ Rick thought, _“_ you _don’t know what you’re missing.”_

Slowly and cautiously he bent over the sleeping form and placed a feathery kiss on Daryl’s hair. Then he returned to his own room as quietly as he had come and closed the door behind him, before he turned his laptop back on.   
So far he had ignored Shane’s below-waistline comments as well as the fact that his former best buddy never answered his questions about old friends, the Walshs, school, simply what else was going on in his life beside sex. Sometimes Rick wondered _if_ there was anything else going on in Shane’s life at all.    
But now he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He was tired of this and who, but the guy who had claimed to be his best friend for most of his life, should be able to handle honesty better. 

         _Shane –_

_ happy New Year to you, too. I’m not even gonna asked if you implemented your New Year’s resolution, because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn.  _

_ For the past months, ever since we moved to  _ New Hope – _not Philly, by the way – I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you, hoping for some news on my old home and the people I left behind. Come to think of it – not one of the guys in school ever contacted me, no one ever came to visit, nobody called. I guess there is some truth to the saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’._

_ I was glad that at least you hadn’t forgotten about me entirely, but tell me – are you writing these emails to  _ me _or just anyone who’d listen to your sex reports?_

_ We were friends for most of our life and you were the one person I could always talk to, rely on, trust in, but that has changed.  _  
_ My brother died, my mom had depressions and my family was falling apart, yet my  _ best friend _never asked how we were doing, not one single time. I hate to tell you that, but you’ve become a self-centered asshole and I can’t even consider you a friend anymore._

_ I met someone. I was excited to tell you months ago, but then I didn’t, because I doubt you’d understand. Now I doubt that more than ever and you will probably despise me, hate me, talk bad about me as soon as you’ve read this. And you may never speak to me again, but you know, Shane, by now I don’t even care anymore.  _  
_ The someone I met has taught me what true friendship means and love and caring about people. It means gathering beechnuts for cookies, wearing hand-knitted sweaters with a deer on the front and valuing a simple pack of TicTacs. _

_ And it means that the most fulfilling and happiest moments can be the ones you’re just lying in bed next to each other  _ reading a book. 

_ No, I haven’t gotten my dick wet yet, but then that wasn’t what I was looking for – not primarily. I wanted someone to love, someone who would love me back, someone to share my sorrows, who would laugh with me and still be there in the morning, even if nothing else happened than cuddling and kissing and sleeping in each other's arms.  _  
_ Do you even know how wonderful it feels to open your eyes in the morning and the first thing you see is the face of the someone you truly love? You probably don’t, because if ‘getting your dick wet’ is all you’re looking for, than that’s all you ever gonna get.  _  
_ But there’s so much more and I’m sorry for you – sorry that you would settle for so little.  _ You _don’t know what you’re missing – the most beautiful, most enchanting feeling in the world._

_ By the way – the special someone I’m talking about … His name is Daryl.  _  
_ And now I’m gonna wake him and hug him and let him know that I love him, because I’m happy he’s here with me, just like I’m happy that you are not.  _

_ Have a good life, Shane, and I hope one day you’ll meet someone who makes you understand.  _

_ Rick _

 

Rick closed the lid of his laptop and sat back in his chair.   
Maybe this had been too honest, too rude, but he had given Shane a gazillion chances over the past months to be a friend and had been disappointed time and again. He had shown interest in his old friend’s _new hobby_ for a while, had tried to stay in contact and have a _normal_ conversation, but to no avail. Shane was like a broken record that played the same song over and over and it was tiring.   
Maybe it was time to have a closure. To put Trenton behind himself completely, since obviously Trenton had moved on without him as well and no one there still cared. His life was here in New Hope now, with Daryl. Screw Jersey. Screw Shane. 

And still – he had loved that man once. It was true what he had written – Shane had been the person he’d been closest to, the one he had trusted and relied on, the one who had known Rick better than anyone else. Losing him hurt, and after watching one brother die it was no consolation that Shane, whom he had considered a brother too for the longest time, was still alive. In a way it was even worse to see a beloved person change and drift away and having to realize, that they just didn’t care anymore.   
Magically drawn to the other room once again, Rick found himself standing by Daryl’s bedside a moment later.   
The older boy hadn’t moved since Rick had left to write the email. He still lay curled up on his side, facing Rick’s room as though he had fallen asleep looking over to him, and appeared to be fast asleep. His features were still peaceful and relaxed and there seemed to be a tiny smile playing around his lips even, as though he was dreaming something nice.  
Throwing all caution to the wind, Rick quietly walked around the bed and crawled under the covers from the other side, spooning up behind his friend a moment later. Gently he wrapped one arm over Daryl’s side and as soon as he lay snuggled up, the anger simply evaporated and the tight knots in his stomach resolved. Daryl was his remedy, the one thing in his world that cured all the pain and sorrow and let the sun shine even in the middle of the night. 

         “Whadda ya doin’?” a sleepy voice muttered into the stillness of the room.

         “Nothing. It’s just …  I hadda …”

         “Rick.”  There was clearly a tinge of protest in Daryl’s inflection and the younger boy was well aware of the fact, that this was against the ‘staying clear of each other’ rule, but he didn’t care.

         “Shut up”, he said, while he pulled his friend even closer, “we’re not doing anything brothers wouldn’t do. I … I … I just need you now, ‘cause … there’s a thunderstorm, okay?”

Even without seeing it, he knew there was a smile on Daryl’s face.

         “Oh. In that case …”

The archer placed his hand on top of Rick’s and snuggled up in his embrace. After a moment of total silence, save for the other boy’s breathing next to his ear, Daryl asked softly:

         “Wanna talk about it?”

         “No”, came the immediate reply. “It’s not important. It was just … just …”

“A thunderstorm.”

A smile tugged at Rick’s lips now.

         “Right. Just a thunderstorm.” He fell quiet for a couple of heartbeats, before he whispered:  
         “I’m glad you’re here with me, Daryl.”

The older boy tightened his grip on Rick’s hand, but didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.   
Just when Rick was about to drift off to sleep, Daryl whispered:

         “D’ya still wanna go ta the Mummer’s parade down in Philly today?”

         “Uh-huh”, Rick mumbled. 

         “Starts early. We gotta get up soon.”

Rick grumbled something unintelligible and pressed even closer to Daryl as far as that was possible, which brought another smile to the archer’s face.

         “Guess they can start without us”, he said softly. 

Besides, there was no sense in getting up early as long as there was a thunderstorm.

 

*******

 

Three days into the new school term, the new year saw the first time ever that Rick Grimes came home from school with a split lip and a black eye. Same as Daryl, only he was used to looking that way and it sure was not the first time he returned from school after having been in a fight. 

The principal of Rick’s school, Gregory Barrington, had been anything but thrilled about Daryl’s reports and had tried to persuade the Grimes that another facility may meet this boy’s requirements better than his school could. In other words, he had wanted them to dump the problem some place else.   
That had been the end of their conversation until Carol Peletier had come in and requested a word with him _in private._  
Jim and Catherine hadn’t been able to hear all that was said in the principal’s office, no matter how they strained their ears to eavesdrop in front of the door, but what they had overheard was about Carol working with this boy in her free time and seeing potential that even a blind man could see, if they gave him half a chance. That the Grimes had gone out of their way to enable a good life, a _future,_ for this teenager and that the least they could do as a good, Christian school was giving them all the support they could, instead of turning their backs and looking the other way just because that was convenient. And how it may sway people in the next election, if word of Gregory’s tireless support of the less well-off got out, especially since it would give the school’s reputation a major boost when someone with initially low grades would in the end graduate with flying colors.   
Carol knew that she went out on a limb with the latter, but she would sure do all she could to get Daryl through the final exams. And she had persuaded Gregory the moment she had mentioned the next election and possible votes this little _experiment_ could earn him.   
So Daryl Dixon was admitted to one of the elitist private schools on the East coast – and even before the first week had ended, he and his new brother had been engaged in a fight. 

The moment she opened the front door, Catherine’s eyes widened about two sizes when she looked into the damaged faces of her sons.   
Rick had just started to look like a human being again, with the broken nose healing and the swelling and bruises almost gone, but he was back to square one now and Daryl looked little better.

         “Have you been run over by the school bus or what?” Catherine commented and her expression even darkened when the two teenagers considered this hilarious and broke out laughing.

She noticed Tobin from across the street standing next to his mailbox like an odd kind of scarecrow, staring over to them, and with a forced smile Cathy waved to him.

         “Hi Tobin!”   
“Nice to see you, you nosey little …” she muttered to herself, while she pulled the boys into the house and slammed the door shut.   
         “Jim!!”

A moment later the door to the study opened and _Mr. G,_ with his nose stuck in a book, came out.

         “Is the house on fire, hon?” he asked absentminded.

         “Worse”, she commented dryly, which had him look up from his book.

When his eyes came to rest on the two teenagers, Jim took the reading glasses off that he was wearing and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

         “What happened?” he asked seriously, almost dreading the answer.

Did Will Dixon return? Did that bastard attack his sons despite the money he was paid to disappear once and for all? Was there someone else from Daryl’s old neighborhood threatening the boys?

He watched Rick put on a stubborn expression while he crossed his arms before his chest.

         “No one bullies my brother”, he said determinedly. 

         “And no one gets away with hittin’ mine for steppin’ in”, Daryl added. “We didn’t start this – but we sure ended it.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Jim’s features derailed visibly, while he tried hard not to laugh. He failed miserably.

         “Jim Grimes!” Catherine chided when her husband started to chuckle. “They’ve been fighting.”

         “No, Cath”, Jim replied, composing himself, “they’ve been settling a matter. Would you want them to just hold still and let people harass them? I’d prefer a verbal solution, too, but sometimes it requires a _clearer_ language.”

He turned to the two teenagers.

         “I do assume this is settled now?”

They both nodded wordlessly.

         “Good. But if it happens again, you let me know.” He took a closer look at their faces and suppressed a smirk.  
         “I’m not sure how much more your nose can take, Rick, and it would be nice seeing your face again.”

         “Oh, this ain’t it?” Daryl teased and got nudged by his friend in fake annoyance.

Giving a deep, relenting sigh, Catherine shook her head and commented dryly:

         “The voice of reason is clearly outnumbered in this house. – I’ll get the arnica ointment.”  
“Bought the XXL bottle the other day”, she added, while she walked down the hallway, her inflection not giving away whether this was a joke or not. 

As soon as she was out of earshot, Jim turned to the two boys and held up his hands for a double-high five.

         “Way to go, guys! I’m proud of you for sticking together like that – it’s what brothers do.”

He put the glasses back on and, concentrating on his book again, disappeared back into this study. Behind him Rick and Daryl exchanged a look, all amusement gone now.   
Sticking together was something that _lovers_ did, too, but the more often Jim and Catherine referred to them as _brothers_ or _friends_ , the more they feared never to be able to take the next step. If they did, would Jim still be proud? 


	20. Chapter 20

On January 6th, Daryl was nervous as though he had to hold a speech before the United Nations. Despite never wanting to do this again, he _had_ gotten his hopes up that this day would be something special, that just this once someone would remember it was his birthday.   
When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was an approximately eight inch item sitting on his nightstand, that hadn’t been there the night before. He sat up and after rubbing the sleep from his eyes, took a closer look. He broke out laughing instantly.   
It was a chocolate squirrel, which was about the _sweetest_ present he had even gotten.  
When he heard his laughter, Rick stuck his head through the gap of the bathroom door and cast him a wide smile. Then he came into the room, still in his PJs, and looked Daryl deep in the eyes for a long, silent moment.   
It was his birthday. Shouldn’t that call for a kiss? Just one, just today, just because?  
Daryl sat on the edge of his bed and returned the look with a mixture of regret and the request for understanding.

         “Thanks for the squirrel”, he said softly. “’s great.”

With a nod Rick let himself sink onto his knees in between Daryl’s legs and wordlessly wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cheek to the older boy’s chest.

         “Happy birthday, _brother_ ”, he said, trying hard not to sound sad or sarcastic, but he didn’t succeed entirely and felt bad about that the moment he heard his own inflection.  
         “Sorry”, he apologized. “I just thought this would be easier.” 

Daryl didn’t reply to that. He just responded to the embrace and placed a loving kiss on Rick’s curls. 

         “We gotta get ready for school”, he whispered to his friend after a while and reluctantly Rick let go of him and got up.

He looked at Daryl quietly for a moment, then he held out his fist to him, the way he had done on New Year’s Eve.   
Another brofist. Another gesture that meant _more_ , substituted a kiss he knew they were both longing for. This entire _experiment_ was driving Rick nuts, but it was Daryl’s birthday and thus hardly the time to start an argument. 

He headed to the bathroom to get a shower and totally intended to make it a cold one for more than one reason. 

         “Daryl”, he said, turning around to his friend once again, “I just want you to know that … that … I love you.”   
He swallowed thickly.  
         “I can say that, right? It’s what brothers do, too.”

He disappeared through the gap into the bathroom and a moment later the water in the shower started running.   
Daryl sat frozen on the edge of the bed and stared at the spot where Rick had stood only a moment ago.   
It was one thing to _know_ and another to actually hear those words. The most precious words anyone could possibly say to another and he had no doubt that Rick had meant them, but the moment wasn’t right.   
The other boy’s frustration was palpable and the more time passed, the harder it got for Rick to hide it, to not act on it. 

_ I can say that, right? It’s what brothers do, too. _

It was hard not to hear a tinge of sarcasm between the lines and Daryl wished, Rick had waited. Waited for a better, for the _right_ moment to say _the_ three words to him. It would have meant so much more, would have felt better.  
If saying ‘I love you’ was what brothers did, then how come he had never heard these words before? He’d been on this Earth for seventeen years and hadn’t gone a day without a brother, but until this day no one had ever said those words to him before.  
So maybe this wasn’t what brothers did. Maybe it was something lovers did. _Lovers._ Daryl liked how that sounded, how it felt to think of Rick as his lover – someone he was allowed to kiss, to touch, who’d be his other half and complete him.   
Maybe Rick was right. What was he waiting for? Deep down inside he knew this feeling wasn’t going to change – if anything, it would grow stronger, but not disappear. Whether they came out and told Jim and Catherine today or a year from now, it didn’t make a difference.  
Whatever Rick’s parents would think about their relationship now, it was unlikely to change in their favor the longer they saw only brothers in them. Who could tell – if they told them today, maybe they’d even approve. Oh, sure they would – what parents wouldn’t be thrilled to find out that their son was gay and canoodling with a boy they had just adopted.   
Daryl cringed.   
He knew what he was waiting for. Courage. The strength to stand in front of these people and tell them that Rick and he, that they were a couple or rather wanted their blessings to become one. The strength to take whichever blow may be following and the courage to deal with the consequences. He hadn’t found that courage yet. 

          
         “You’re running late!” Catherine greeted him when he came down the stairs. “The school bus will be here any minute. Rick’s waiting for you outside.”

She pushed his lunch bag into his hands and watched him with a wide smile, while he put his shoes and jacket on. Then she placed a quick kiss on his cheek and pushed him towards the door. 

         “Have a nice day!”

The next second he stood on the front porch and the door fell audibly shut behind him. He sighed.   
Well, at least Rick hadn’t forgotten his birthday. He should have known better than to get his hopes up – after all, he had never told Jim and Catherine when his birthday was, so how were they to know? Rick could have dropped a hint, but maybe he forgot. It didn’t matter. He got a chocolate squirrel and a declaration of love – how could it possibly get any better? 

The hours at school seemed to be endless. Although Carol was still practicing with him almost every day, barely one class went by that he wasn’t stretched to his limits. The deficiencies were simply too big and a lot of what was discussed in class was Greek to him. He couldn’t keep up, couldn’t meet the expectations and it frustrated him. He would have liked to do better, to prove that Carol as well as Rick’s parents hadn’t placed their trust in him in vain, but it was futile trying to build a house on a shaky foundation.   
It would have been nice to see Miss … Mrs. Peletier today, but she was his and Rick’s English and math teacher and both classes were not on the schedule today. Thus he was more than surprised when she was waiting for him outside the room after Dr. Porter’s physics class.

         “It would require vigorous efforts on your part to persuade me that despite all previous failures, you are willing to fulfil the obligations of …”

         “Yeah, yeah, I got it”, Daryl cut into Mr. Eugene Porter’s monologue. “Ya want me ta study more ‘n’ do better. Word, man.”

That said he left the teacher standing with his mouth gaped open, while thinking to himself that Dr. Porter could just as well try to teach a pig how to fly, and hurried towards Carol. 

         “Hi, Miss Peletier.” 

Although he was allowed to called her Carol during their private lessons, she had asked him to stick to ‘Miss Peletier’ in school. It wasn’t well received when teachers and their students formed some kind of friendship. And there were always people with their minds in the gutter, who even suspected more than just friendship when a young, pretty teacher visited her 17-year-old student at home or allowed him to call her by her first name.  

         “Hi, Daryl”, she replied with a smile. “You forgot your notebook in my class the other day.”

She held the item in question out to him and spoke loud enough for everyone around to hear. He frowned when he looked at the plain backside of the notebook, but when he turned it around the cover showed a beautiful picture of a forest in all the autumn colors imaginable. 

         “Your mother said you love the woods”, she said with a smile. And when she turned to leave, she whispered to him quickly:  
         “Happy birthday.”

He stood frozen in his spot and looked at the pretty notebook. This wasn’t his. He hadn’t forgotten it in her class. It was a birthday present and she had made sure to pick a picture he would really like. And he did.  
He missed the woods and had to swallow against a lump in his throat when he looked at the tall, proud trees in the picture, as though it was a photo of old friends he hadn’t visited in far too long.   
It was true what he had said the other day – there was no reason for him to go hunting anymore and his crossbow was gone, but the woods were his home more than any house could ever be. 

         _Man, ain’t nothin’ sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he’s an indoor cat. That what ya wanna be?_

Merle’s words echoed in his mind all of a sudden and sent a cold shiver down his spine.    
In a way, yes, he wanted to be an indoor cat, wanted to belong, wanted to be part of that family, but maybe Merle was right. Maybe he’d always be an outdoor cat, would never fit in entirely. But there was such a thing as the golden mean, wasn’t there? Maybe he could be both. Belong without losing himself. It sure was worth a try.

         “Miss Peletier!” he called after Carol and tried to catch up to her.

When he had he tried not to smile too wide and said with a polite nod:

         “Thank you – for bringing back the notebook I _forgot.”_

She grinned.

         “Welcome, Daryl.” 

         “How did you know?” he asked after a moment of hesitation and when he gave her a meaningful look, she understood.

         “Your school reports. – And now you better hurry or you gonna be late for your next class. And you know that Mr. Ford’s gonna demand your head on a silver platter, if you show up late again.”

Daryl couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

         “That ain’t no sports teacher – that’s a drill sergeant, who keeps confusin’ a gym with a boot camp.”

She laughed out loud.

         “But he gets all the lazy teenager butts in gear, that spend way too much time in front of computer screens.”

         “Yeah, no shit.” 

With a sigh he turned on his heels and headed to the gym with sagging shoulders, while Carol’s giggle accompanied him down the corridor. Sometime into gym class, when Mr. Ford just demanded another ten pushups, Daryl realized that Carol had referred to Catherine as his ‘ _mother’_.  

 

When Rick and Daryl came home that afternoon, both majorly sore from Mr. Ford’s boot camp, a wonderful smell of freshly baked cake greeted them, accompanied by Lionel Richie’s _Happy Birthday_ playing from an old record Catherine had dug up somewhere.    
The teenagers grinned and cringed at the same time, but a beaming Catherine hurrying toward Daryl caught their attention. The next moment he was pulled into a bear hug.

         “Happy birthday, honey.” 

         “Thanks”, he croaked, audibly touched. “I thought ya forgot.”

         “I’m sorry”, she giggled, “that was the plan, so you’d be twice as surprised. Worked, didn’t it?”

She released him and he nodded with a smile. 

         “Alright, guys, take off your shoes and then come to the living room. Hurry up.”

That said she disappeared into said living room, while the teenagers took off their shoes and jackets.   
          
         “D’ya know ‘bout this?” Daryl ask and Rick nodded with a smirk.

         “Sure. Did you really think I’d let anyone forget your birthday?” 

         “Ya forgot ta tell Mr. Ford”, Daryl winced when he straightened up again and his aching back muscles protested.

Rick laughed out loud.

         “Nope, but he said since you’re an old man now, he had better let you do some extra pushups, so you’d stay in shape.”

         “Jackass.” 

Rick laughed even louder.

         “Mr. Ford or me?”

         “Make an educated guess.” 

         “Are you gonna show up here anytime before Daryl’s 18th birthday?” Catherine called with impatience peppering her inflection and chuckling, the two boys raced down the hallway.

When they came into the living room, the two friends stopped dead in their tracks and looked around themselves with their mouths gaped open.    
The room was plastered with balloons, garlands, paper streamers and confetti as though a parade had marched through the Grimes’ home. Lionel just gave an encore and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ for the umpteenth time, while Catherine stood next to a richly decorated cake with lots of frosting and adorned by a big chocolate 17. Rick couldn’t help sending a silent prayer of thanks, that his mom had refrained from adding rainbows and unicorns.    
He cast a cautious side glance to the birthday boy, trying to keep his expression neutral. He had learned his lesson and wouldn’t make the same mistake he had made at Christmas and countless times before. And the way Daryl started smiling in that moment confirmed, that it was a wise decision to keep his mouth shut.    
These decorations were way over the top, but then maybe Catherine had figured she had to make up for seventeen lost years with no birthday party at all. Somehow Rick liked that thought.   
Daryl was totally overwhelmed and at a lack for words, so Catherine threw him a lifeline.

         “Come on, blow out the candles and make a wish.” 

Smiling even wider, Daryl approached the breakfast counter on which his cake was sitting and stood in front of it in awe for a moment. 

         “Jim is running late, honey, but go right ahead.”

         “I can wait”, Daryl offered. 

The front door falling shut and quickly approaching footsteps drew their attention to the door, where Jim showed up a second later.

         “Oh good”, he commented, when he saw that Daryl was just about to blow out the candles, “right on time.” 

He smiled at the boy and the mere fact that Jim had taken the time to be here and watch him blow out his very first birthday candles ever, warmed the teenager’s heart.    
He drew in a deep breath and was just about to blow, when Catherine reminded him:

         “Don’t forget the wish!”

For a long moment, in which he was still holding his breath, Daryl looked straight into Rick’s eyes and the silent message he sent let the younger boy know what that wish was. It was a simple one, just a single word. _You._

Daryl released his breath and made sure to blow out all the candles in one go and when he succeeded, the Grimes family clapped their hands and laughed and he was instantly pulled into Rick’s arms. 

         “Good wish”, he whispered into his friend’s ear and for a second Daryl tightened his arms around him, glad that the message had come across. 

When they reluctantly let go of each other, Catherine gave the birthday boy another hug.  
          
         “The new year is gonna be better than the last”, she promised. 

He pulled back and looked at her with an undefined expression in his eyes.

         “’twasn’t all bad”, he replied and the answer instantly had her beam even brighter. 

Daryl cast Rick another glance and the two boys just smiled at each other.    
While the older boy had been in his wife’s clutches, Jim had sneaked out into the hallway and now returned with Daryl’s present that he had just picked up in a store down in Philadelphia. He couldn’t wait to see the teenager’s face and when he stood behind him, he said in a solemn inflection:

         “Happy birthday, Daryl. – Cath, Rick and I, we’ve got a little something for you.”

When Daryl turned around to him, his mouth gaped open and he stared at the item in Jim’s hands with wide, teary eyes.   
A crossbow! It was a brand new, elegant, incredibly beautiful crossbow.

         “When Rick and I _ran some errands_ the other day, he showed me in the store what kind you had before, but the salesguy there said that was for kids. You’re a man now, so this _Stryker_ should suit you better.”

Daryl reached out his hand with shining eyes and ran it almost tenderly over the crossbow. 

         “Thanks”, he breathed in a choked voice, “’s terrific.”

He carefully lifted it out of the man’s hands as though it was likely to break and inspected it thoroughly. Then he raised it and aimed at nothing in particular, he just meant to test its feel. And it felt nothing short of wonderful to have the solid weight of a crossbow in his hands again. 

         “Are you gonna show us how it works?” Jim asked next to him and eagerly nodding, Daryl headed out into the backyard instantly, not bothering to put a jacket or shoes on.

While the three Grimes followed with a shrug, grinning at each other about Daryl’s childlike enthusiasm, the archer had already cocked and loaded the crossbow and looked around for a suitable target.

         “Too bad you can’t shoot Tobin’s garden gnome”, Rick commented dryly. “That thing’s ugly as shit.”

         “Rick!” Catherine chided, before she added: “It _is_ ugly as shit, but we’re not shooting the neighbors’ decorations, even if they make our eyes bleed.” 

All four of them laughed about that, then Jim pointed at their garden shed.

         “Ya wanna insult me, man?” Daryl cast him a glare. “I can hit somethin’ smaller than a shed, ya know.”

The man suppressed a smirk and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

         “I figured that”, he said consiliatorily. “I wasn’t pointing at the shed, but the sign next to the door.”

Daryl squinted his eyes and then lifted the crossbow to look through the scrope at what Jim had pointed out.    
There was indeed a wooden sign next to the shed’s door, about 5x7 inches large, that read in stylish letters:

          _The Grimes’ garden stuff and things_

A second later a bolt was released from Daryl’s new crossbow and whizzed the twenty-five yards to the appointed target, where it hit the sign right into the "i" of _things_ and had it end up reading _thangs_ now.    
The three Grimes broke into cheering and Daryl’s heart skipped a beat.    
He looked from one of these people to the next, feeling warm despite the low January temperatures, and realized that this was the first birthday ever that he was glad for being born. 

When they were seated around the dining table shortly after, each with a huge piece of cake in front of them, Daryl put a forkful of it into his mouth and then said:

         “Thank ya so much. This ‘s great.”

Catherine giggled.

         “It’s just a cake, Daryl. That wasn’t even too hard to make. I just …”  
          
         “Nah, not the cake. Oh,” he corrected himself instantly, “that too, of course, but ‘s not what I meant. I … ‘s just … it’s great havin’ people remember ma b-day ‘n’ botherin’ ta have a cake ‘n’ all.”

Both Jim and Catherine’s eyes grew large.

         “You mean you never had a birthday party before? Not even when you were little?”

Daryl shook his head and stared onto this plate.

         “They either forgot or ignored it. Since ma parents never wanted me in the first place, I suppose they saw li’l reason for celebration. ‘n’ Merle … he did a li’l better at least once in a while. Got me ‘em TicTacs last year, so that’s somethin’. And one year he had a Butterfinger with a candle in it, which was nice enough, although … him bein’ ma brother ‘n’ all, he shoulda known …”

         “… that you hate peanut butter”, Rick ended his sentence and for a moment the two boys just looked deeply into each other’s eyes again.

Again a warm and content feeling washed over Daryl and had his heart beat faster. After only half a year Rick knew him better than his own brother did after seventeen years. 

         “Alright”, Jim said determinedly, “those times are over, son.”   
“Daryl”, he corrected quickly, but when he looked at the archer, he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on the boy’s face.   
         “Whadda you wanna do today? It’s your special day and it’s tradition in this family that the birthday boy or girl gets to choose what the family’s gonna do that day.”

Rick pressed his lips together and kept quiet. True, that was supposed to be family tradition, but for as long as he could think back, it came with restrictions. He remembered many times he had wanted to go to an amusement park like Six Flaggs or invite all his friends to McDonald’s or an ice cream parlor, but usually the answer had run:  
          
         _“We’d love to, honey, but don’t you wanna choose something Jeff can do, too?”_

Daryl’s voice next to him ended his bitter thoughts. 

         “I’d like to … if ya don’t mind ‘n’ if this ‘s okay with ya, I’d … I wanna …“ he hemmed and hawed. 

         “Just spit it out”, Jim prompted.

         “Can I, please, just go into the woods for a while? I … I miss bein’ out there ‘n’ I wanna try the new crossbow.”

         “Are you gonna shoot more signs?” Jim teased.

         “Nah, garden goblins”, Daryl replied and they both grinned about the exchange. 

Shrugging, Jim cast his wife a glance and saw her nod her approval, so he said:

         “If that’s what you wanna do, sure. It’s your birthday. But it’s gonna be dark soon.” 

         “Ain’t gonna be gone for long”, he promised.

 

When he had donned his jacket and boots and had the crossbow slung over his shoulder, ready to leave, Rick blocked his way to the door.

         “Want me to come?” he asked, knowing the answer even before Daryl slightly shook his head.

If he had wanted Rick to accompany him, he would have asked. 

         “Why not?” again there was a slightly hurt inflection to Rick’s voice that was harder to bear with each time Daryl heard it.

         “I gotta find somethin’ out there ‘n’ I have ta go lookin’ by maself.”

That sounded mysterious and had Rick lift his eyebrows.

         “My dad’s right – it’s gonna be dark out there soon and then you’re not even gonna be able to find your own dick.”

         “Yeah, I take ma chances, since that ain’t what I’m lookin’ for”, Daryl shot back, while he gently yet insistantly pushed the younger boy out of his way. 

Ten minutes later Rick watched his friend heading across the meadows straight for the woods, while he stood on a second floor window with a violently beating heart and clenched teeth.   
The woods had always been Daryl’s sanctuary and when he had showed Rick all of his favorite places, he had made him part of a very exclusive circle. These places, the forest, had connected them, had been _their_ sanctuary for quite a while now.   
Why was Daryl shutting him out? Why did he leave him behind? Why did he pull away?   
Maybe the older boy had even been right. Whatever this feeling was they had felt for each other, it may just be a fleeting emotion after all. Was it changing on Daryl’s side already? Was he slipping away from Rick bit by bit?

The thought, the possibility to never have Daryl as his partner, as that special someone he had told Shane to find, hurt Rick profoundly.   
          
         “I love you”, he whispered almost inaudibly the moment the figure in the distance disappeared between the trees.   
         “Please, come back to me.”

What he didn’t know was that Daryl was on a mission. He had to find it – his courage and a way. The courage to dare tell Rick’s parents and the world how they felt for each other. And the way to a life with Rick by his side.   
But maybe what he was looking for couldn’t be found out here. He had been looking for courage and a way so many times in all these years and had never found them in these woods. In a way, it had always been too dark.   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - you all would like to shake Daryl now or bang their heads together. Whatever it takes so these guys finally get a move on and find their balls to take the next step.  
> Okay, I hear you - next chapter. Promise. :-)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now here it comes! Whatever 'it' is ... I so hope you'll like it.  
> Let me know what you think, pretty please!!

        “I can’t do this anymore”, Rick announced the moment he came into Daryl’s room on Valentine’s Day.

The older boy, who was sitting on his bed indian style with his copy of _The_ _Neverending Story_ in hand, tensed up visibly. 

         “Do what?” he replied, a scared inflection clearly peppering his voice.

         “This! Hiding, pretending, acting as though …as though I wasn’t in love with you. Because I am.”   
Frustrated Rick ran a hand through his curls.  
         “As far as I’m concerned it wasn’t a fleeting emotion – on the contrary.”  
He sighed.  
         “You wanted time and you got it, but it’s been two months now, Daryl. And I … I just need an answer now.”

         “Forty-two?”, Daryl offered in a weak attempt to lighten the tension, but the joke fell flat.  
          
         “If you don’t want me as more than a friend or brother, just tell me”, Rick said meekly. “I just need to know where you stand. Please?” 

Daryl looked at him for a long, silent moment, then he gently placed the book on his bed and got up. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and got a small box out, that he held out to Rick deadpan.

         “Got something for ya.” 

         “Daryl”, Rick started with a sigh, when he still hadn’t gotten the answer he requested, but the older boy’s pleading look had him fall quiet.

He accepted the gift, but didn’t open it. Then he reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled a blue colored envelope out that clearly contained more than a letter or a card.  
Rick held it out to his friend and said in a defeated inflection:

         “I know a red envelope would have been appropriate, with it being Valentine’s Day and all, but I know you love blue.”

Without another word they started opening their gifts and froze simultaneously a second later, both staring unbelieving at what they held in their hands. Two sets of blue eyes flicked to each other for a moment and then back onto the presents.  
It was a braided black leather bracelet with a stainless steel clasp in the form of the infinity symbol – and they both held an identical piece in their hand.  

         “When we went to watch the Mummer’s parade”, Rick said flabbergasted, “I saw you look at it in a store window.”

A smile spread over Daryl’s face when all of a sudden everything fell into place and he saw the way crystal clear. This was a sign – it had to be. There had been several bracelets on display in that window, yet somehow, without asking, Rick had known which one it was he’d been looking at. And now they had both gotten it as a present for the other as a message, a promise – forever, infinite, only you.   
Daryl had made up his mind to give it to Rick today, no matter what. Had wanted to make this promise, despite still being scared, because the longer he kept Rick waiting, the more he risked to lose him in the end.  
Daryl wasn’t afraid anymore now. This incredible coincidence had got to be a heavenly sign to find their courage and stand up for what they wanted. 

The next second he had pulled Rick into his arms and kissed him ardently, Rick responding the instant Daryl’s lips touched his, as though he was a man dying of thirst and Daryl was the lifesaving water.   
He pressed close to his friend, entwined his fingers in Daryl’s hair and kept kissing him until his lungs burned in the need for oxygen and he started to get dizzy.

         “God, I missed you”, he gasped when they finally broke apart, both panting heavily and achingly hard.  
         “I need you”, he added. Please …”

Daryl tried to still his racing heartbeat and pulled in several deep breaths.

         “Someone might come in.”

         “Gonna lock the doors.”

The older boy shook his head.

         “Both doors locked ‘s suspicious.”

The next moment Rick had gotten hold of his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. He slammed the doors to the adjoining rooms shut and looked them. 

         “Shower”, he said breathless. “No one’s gonna disturb as long as the water‘s running.”

Before Daryl even had a chance to reply, Rick’s lips were on his again, nibbling and kissing in turns. He wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him close, the bulge in his pants bumping against Daryl’s and having both boys gasped when they felt electrified once again. 

         “Wonder what that feels like without any clothes in between”, Rick muttered into Daryl’s mouth, while his hands disappeared under his friend’s shirt. 

Daryl tensed up instantly, which didn’t go unnoticed. Rick stood still for a moment and just held the other boy tight.  
          
         “Know how you feel”, he said softly. “I … I’ve never, either … you know.”

         “Yeah, but it ain’t that.”   
A tremble ran through his body.  
          “’s just … just … don’t want ya ta touch ma back.”

Rick understood immediately.

         “Daryl, I _know._ I’ve seen them, so …”

         “Ya ain’t touched ‘em yet ‘n’ I don’t want ya to.”

         “Does it hurt?”

         “Yeah”, Daryl said in a choked voice, “but not there.”   
He tapped his index finger against his chest.   
         “In here. ‘s where it always hurts when I see ‘em or feel ‘em, ‘cause they remind me. And they’re ugly.”

Rick shook his head and hugged Daryl close.

         “No, they’re not.”

         “Yeah, they are. Each one’s a mark a’ every time I’s weak, ‘cause I didn’t fight back.” 

         “Each one’s a mark of every time you were _strong_ , ‘cause you survived him.”

He placed a kiss to the side of Daryl’s head, but pulled back his hands from underneath the shirt. Instead he took his own shirt off and tossed it aside, before he reached into the shower and turned the water on.    
For a moment he stood hesitatingly in front of his friend, then he started opening his belt buckle. 

         “Anytime you wanna join me here, by my guest”, Rick said, slightly blushing.

Daryl’s eyes rested calmly on him for a few heartbeats, then his hands covered Rick’s all of a sudden where the younger boy was fumbling with the button of his pants.

         “Lemme do this.”

Without breaking eye contact he started to undo the button and zipper and let the jeans fall from Rick’s slender hips. Rick followed suit and returned the favor. One piece of clothing after the other landed on the floor, until the two friends stood in front of each other in their birthdays suits – almost. 

         “It’s alright”, Rick whispered softly, while he started to unbutton the shirt Daryl had refused to take off yet.    
         “D’you trust me?” 

Holding his breath, the older boy just nodded and a moment later the shirt joined the rest of their clothes on the floor. He leaned in almost instantly and pressed his lips to Rick’s, pushing him gently backwards until they stood under the warm spray of the shower and the water ran over their hair and cascaded down their bodies. 

         “You scared?” Rick asked cautiously.

         “Nah, ain’t never scared ‘round ya. – Are you?”

Rick answered the question by shaking his head and sealing Daryl’s lips with his own once again.   
Hands started roaming the other one’s body, skin touched skin and the sensation of their hard erections rubbing against each other had them tremble and shiver despite the hot steam in the shower stall.    
What started as an incidental touch soon became deliberate, and while they kissed ardently and tightly clung to the other, they rubbed their hips against each other time and again. It was a slow motion at first, then picked up in pace and became almost desperate as the tension in their loins rose towards the climax.   
Daryl whimpered when he came, feeling weak in his knees and light-headed all of a sudden. He buried his face in the crook of Rick’s neck and panted heavily while the waves of the orgasm washed over him.

         “Rick”, he gasped, at a lack for words to express what he was feeling. 

But then, his lover’s name was perfect to say it all – every thought, every emotion, _everything._ It was the most beautiful word in the world. 

         “Daryl”, the younger boy cried in that moment as another touch of his lover’s dick against his own got him off, too. 

His knees suddenly buckling he sank boneless to the ground and pulled his lover along until they were sitting on the tiled floor. The hot spray still poured down on them and, sitting in between each other’s legs, they hugged the other one tight and tried to catch their breath.  
There was so much Rick would have wanted to say, so much he wanted Daryl to know. His heart felt ready to explode with all the emotions it held for his friend, but words failed him. 

But then, his lover’s name was perfect to say it all – every thought, every emotion, _everything._ It was the most beautiful word in the world.

For a while they sat quietly in their tight embrace, waiting for the frantic beating of their hearts to ease and the tingling sensation they felt in every fiber of their body to subside. Rick had started to tenderly run his hands over his partner’s back and this time Daryl didn’t flinch.    
He trusted Rick. The other boy had seen every part of him – inside and outside – and he loved Daryl despite of them. And maybe he did _because_ of them. 

         “We gotta tell yer parents”, Daryl said softly, while he ran his fingers through Rick’s wet curls. 

         “I know. But it’s gotta be the right moment. We can’t barge into the dining room tonight going “Can you pass the rolls, please and, oh, by the way, we’re lovers now.” 

         “That what we are?”

         “Yeah”, Rick said while he placed several tiny kisses on Daryl’s neck and shoulder. “That’s what we are.” 

         “Well, then ya can skip the part ‘bout the rolls, but ya gotta say the rest”, the older boy said matter-of-factly.

The comment brought a smile to Rick’s face despite himself, but a moment later it vanished again and made room for a serious frown. 

         “I will. _We_ will. But not tonight. It Valentine’s Day, Daryl, and for the first time in ages my parents get to go out to a romantic dinner. They deserve that time. They _need_ that time together. Let’s not spoil it for them.”

With a hurt expression on his face, Daryl pulled back and looked Rick in the eyes.

         “Spoil? So ya think there ain’t no way they just gonna be happy for us?” 

         “I don’t know. We’re gonna find out soon enough.”

Daryl sighed.

         “’m gettin’ kinda tired of this.” 

         “Of what?” Rick asked with a frown.

         “Always bein’ no more than helluva disappointment.”

The younger boy placed his hands gently to either side of Daryl’s head and leaned in to place another tender kiss on his lips.

         “You’re not. On the contrary – you’re the greatest guy I’ve ever met and I’m more than happy that you’re mine now. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

         “Charmer.” Daryl shook his head. “Ya best never run into Merle.”

         “Why?”

         “He likes shovin’ people’s heads down the toilet for sayin’ sappy stuff like that. – Would be a shame ‘bout ‘em pretty curls.”

Rick laughed out loud.

         “Now who’s a charmer?”

         “Nah, that was flattery.”

         “Yeah?” Rick grinned with a teasing inflection. “If people flatter, they usually want something. So, let’s hear it, whadda you want?”

Daryl started nibbling on Rick’s earlobe and drew a throaty moan in the back of the other boy’s throat.

         “What we just did … do it again?”  

Rick complied only too willingly. 

 

*******

 

A few days after Valentine’s Day, Cathy handed Rick a neat, printed invitation to a party at the Walshs’ in Trenton to celebrate Shane’s sixteenth birthday as well as the fortieth of his mother Sarah.

Catherine had a wide happy smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes that Rick hadn’t seen in them in years.  
The romantic dinner a few nights before had, no doubt, led to more romantic activities after Jim and Cathy had returned home, which hadn’t happened in a long time, and they were both still walking on air.   
Ever since this family was in fact a family again, Jim had spent less hours at the club or in his office. He was home right on time for dinner every single day or even earlier and opted for doing some of his work at home rather than away from Cath and the boys. He didn’t even mind being interrupted anymore the way he used to, especially if it was his wife _interrupting,_ which these days always meant the study would be locked for an hour or so and the world outside forgotten.  
It hadn’t gone unnoticed and Rick and Daryl were happy for them, but the fact that they hadn’t had a chance to talk to Jim and Cath about their own young love was a heavy burden on both of their souls.   
Daryl still hated to go behind their parents’ backs and so nothing more than kissing had happened between the two boys after Valentine’s Day, due to the fear of being caught.   
They were hoping and praying every day that ‘the right moment’ would come soon. 

With all four of them seated at the dinner table now, Rick read the invitation and with each word his features darkened. 

As he expected, he hadn’t heard a word from Shane ever since he had sent him that email on New Year’s Day. His best ex-friend probably didn’t even know the Grimes’ were invited to the party and if he did, he probably planned to ignore Rick all night. Or even worse – taunt him, laugh in his face and make nasty remarks.   
Rick was prepared and he could handle childish crap like that, but he wouldn’t put Daryl through it.   
If the Grimes were invited, so was Daryl, because he was one of them now. And no doubt he would be Shane’s No. 1 target.   
After Rick had pressed the ‘send’ button, he had chided himself for reacting this impulsively and lashing out without thinking. Shane could have taken the news about Rick apparently being _a queer_ straight to his parents as well as everyone they had known in Jersey, which would have resulted in Rick's parents knowing about it, too, before the sun had set that day.   
His mom and Sarah weren’t bosom buddies, but they had always talked to each other about their sons – their health, education, circle of friends, leisure time activities and so on, and so forth. After all, in a way Rick had been as much of a Walsh as he’d been a Grimes and the same went for Shane.   
It was frightening how quickly things could change. How the person you once cared for most in this world could turn into an opponent – and vice versa.   
Well, obviously Shane had kept his mouth shut, which was decent enough, or he was ashamed to the bones to have been a queer’s brother for most of his life and decided to never talk about him again in _any way._

Rick saw no reason whatsoever to go to that party. 

         “I’m not going”, he blurted out after he had read the invitation.

And with that said he handed it back to his mother.   
When he noticed his parents stunned, uncomprehending gaze, he realized that this probably needed a little more explaining, if they were supposed to let it rest. So he told them how much Shane and his _interests_ had changed, without going into detail, and that there was nothing that connected them anymore. How his former best friend was a stranger to him now – one he didn’t even like anymore – and that going to that party would only be highly unpleasant for them.

         “Honey”, Catherine tried to sway him, “maybe he’s just a little jealous, because you’ve got a new best friend now? Once he got to know Daryl …”

The rest of her speech faded into the background and wasn’t heard anymore when Rick turned his head and looked at Daryl – communicated silently with him and conveyed one single, essential question:

         _“Now?”_

And breathing in deep with a painfully throbbing heart, Daryl nodded. 

         “No, mom”, Rick stopped his mother’s monologue and had the woman fall quiet with a surprised air.

         “Rick, your mother wasn’t done yet”, Jim chided when his son rudely interrupted Catherine, but there was something in the way the two teenagers had grown pale and kept exchanging glances that set off alarm bells in the back of his mind.  
         “What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously. 

The younger boy reached for his friend’s hand under the table and held onto it tightly, while he pulled in a deep breath and said:

         “There’s something we need to tell you.”

His nervous inflection didn’t go unnoticed and had both parents look at them expectantly. Daryl would have liked for the ground to open and just swallow them now. Anything to get out of here, to avoid this situation, but unfortunately that was unlikely to happen. Where were those natural disasters when you needed them? 

         “Truth to be told”, Rick continued hesitatingly, “Daryl and I, we’ve become more than best friends.”

         “We know”, Catherine cut in nervously, “you’re brothers now.”

Did she really believe the answer was that simple? Would these boys look as though they were standing in front of a firing squad, if that was all they had to say? Deep down inside she knew there was _more._

         “Technically, yes”, Rick agreed, “but that’s not what I meant.”

He felt Daryl’s hand in his grow sweaty and the older boy’s fingers tighten around his more and more in a viselike grip. For the sake of his hand first of all he had better say what needed to be said, quickly.

         “We … we …”

Damn. How do you tell your parents a thing like that?

         “I love him”, Daryl blurted out in that moment. “Ain’t his fault. I started this – kissed him first. So if ya gotta hate someone, hate me.”

His voice was choked by both panic and tears all of a sudden and he tried to swallow them down quickly, but failed.  
They must have gotten the message by now, so why didn’t they say anything? Why did they just sit there totally frozen, staring at them?  
Daryl felt like running and tensed up visibly, which prompted Rick to give a reassuring squeeze to the hand that almost broke his fingers and make a soothing sound, although he felt the same kind of panic rise inside of him now.   
This may have been a mistake, but they couldn’t keep a thing like this a secret forever. And he didn’t want this to be a secret any longer.

         “We haven’t done anything wrong”, Rick picked up. “We fell in love. It just happened.”

When still neither Jim, nor Catherine would say a word and just stared at them visibly confused and taken aback, Rick felt his heart sink. 

         “Please”, he pleaded.

The next second Daryl let go of his hand and was on his feet suddenly. 

         “’m sorry”, he croaked. “Sorry I ruined it all. After all ya done for me, I didn’t mean ta … didn’t mean ta cause more heartache. I understand if ya don’t want me here no more now. ‘s just …”

He cast a teary-eyed glance at Rick, then turned on his heels and meant to head to the door.

         “Daryl, wait!” Jim’s voice behind him stopped him. “Come back here, please.” 

Reluctantly the teenager turned back around and approached the table, where he stood as though this was indeed a firing squad.

         “Would you sit down, please?” Jim urged. “There’s absolutely no need to run. You guys just gotta give us a moment to wrap our minds around this.”  
He looked from one of his sons to the other.  
         “And when I say _this_ , it doesn’t mean I disapprove. It just comes as much of a surprise as though you were telling us you wanted tattoos and your hair dyed blue.”

         “What?” Catherine cast him a wide-eyed side glance. “Are you nuts? If that’s the alternative, I sure favor _this_.”

It was deadly quiet for a moment, then she said meekly:

         “Now that came out totally wrong.” 

Her heart went out to the boys who sat across from her and Jim like a mere picture of misery. Rick stared at them with wide fearful eyes, while Daryl didn’t even dare look up anymore and was hiding behind his bangs, both of them as pale as a ghost.  

She exchanged a quick glance with her husband and then said:

         “We lost one son and what hurt the most was having so many hopes and dreams for his life and see all of them crash and burn. We had hopes and dreams for Rick, too, and truth to be told – I would have wanted some grandkids.”

         “Sorry”, Daryl muttered from behind his curtain of hair, “can’t do that.” 

There was a slightly defensive tone to his inflection and seeing a tinge of Daryl’s fighting spirit return, had a smile tug on Jim and Catherine’s lips.

         “Don’t give up before you’ve tried”, Jim joked and Daryl cast him a surprised glance. 

If the man felt like joking, maybe the situation wasn’t half as hopeless as he thought. 

         “I wasn’t finished”, Catherine picked up. “Bottomline is, that all we ever wanted is the best for our children, so that they would have a happy and fulfilled life. And I don’t know about you, Jim, but I have never seen Rick as happy as he’s been during the past months.”

         “Agreed”, Jim replied.

         “Guess you have something to do with that, Daryl”, the woman added and cast a smile at the two nervous teenagers.

         “Hey”, Jim leaned forward and tried to make both of them come out of their stupor. “You can breathe, boys. I think those tats and the blue hair would have been cool, but if you just want each other – fine with us, too.”

His wife slapped him up the back of his head for that comment, but Rick jumping to his feet and hurrying around the table to give his father a hug drew Jim’s attention. 

         “Thank you”, the boy breathed with tears of relief flooding his eyes, while the two Grimes men stood in a tight embrace. 

         “May I cut in?” a female voice next to them let father and son release each other and with a wide smile, Catherine pulled Rick into her arms.

Jim locked eyes with Daryl, who still sat motionless at the table, not knowing what he was supposed to do now.   
If this had been his own family and he had just dropped the bombshell, he had better run as far as his feet would carry him, because no doubt, if Will Dixon had ever found out that his son was gay, he would have killed him. The last thing he would have done was give him a hug and his blessings.   
Jim made an inviting gesture to have Daryl join them. When the teenager cautiously drew nearer as though he was approaching a wild animal and expected an attack any second now, the man held up his hand for another high-five, smiling.  
Daryl stopped at arm’s length away from him, ignoring the high-five, and gave the man one of his intense looks that seemed to reach all the way into a person’s soul.    
Jim lowered his hand and held the look, waiting. Then, after a long silent moment, he invitingly opened his arms and the next second Daryl was in them and let them close around him.   
Jim had to swallow against a lump in his throat and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Rick and Cath cast them a stunned glance.   
For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon trusted a man enough to allow him this near and even hold him in an embrace. And it was him, Jim, who had that honor. Who had done right by this boy enough to earn his trust and was able to break through a wall that had been erected many years ago. He didn’t see that he had really done all that much, but then maybe it was the things he _hadn’t_ done that made Daryl trust him in the end. 

         “Thanks”, Daryl croaked after a moment, before he let go and took a step back. 

         “For what?” Jim asked and when he saw Daryl cast a quick glance to Rick, he understood.   
         “Daryl”, he placed his hands on the boy’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “what did you think would happen?”   
He cast a glance over his shoulder at Rick.   
         “Both of you. What did you think we were gonna do that made you so scared to tell us?”

         “I thought”, Daryl said in a choked voice, unable to hold Jim’s gaze a moment longer, “I thought ya was gonna send me away. Tell me I’s never allowed ta see Rick again. I’s afraid ta lose it all – him, this home … y’all.”

         “Oh, my God”, Catherine was there in an instant and, standing next to her husband, said:   
         “This is not how families work, Daryl. At least not this one. Of course, parents usually have a rough outline, a plan and hopes for their children’s lives, but that doesn’t change the fact that they need to lead their own lives and make their own decisions. Now we may not always like what our children do, but as long as they are happy with their decisions, so should we.”

         “So ya don’t like this?” Daryl asked meekly.

         “I didn’t say that – I was referring to tattoos and blue hair”, she smirked with a side glance to her husband.   
          
“We were surprised”, Jim cut in, “because we had expected the two of you to go on as brothers from now on, but if you’re even more to each other and that’s what you want, fine. Just because things don’t go as planned or expected in our children’s lives, doesn’t mean we gonna send them away or not love them anymore.”

         “We did make mistakes in the past”, Catherine said with a glance to Rick, “but we always loved our sons just the way they are and we’re not stopping now.”   
She held out her arms.   
         “Family cuddling – now.” 

Smiling the two boys approached her for a double hug and when the three of them were an entangled heap, Jim wrapped his arms around all three of them in an exaggerated dramatic gesture, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

         “Aaaww”, he teased, “this is better than a rerun of _Little House on the Prairie,_ right, Cath?” 

         “Idiot”, she replied, while the boys broke out laughing. 

They let go of each other and Daryl couldn’t help the thought that he’d pay money for Merle and Will to see him now, simply because he was sure that this entirely sappy scene would have made them puke.

          “Wish ma pa ‘n’ bro could see me now”, he started, but before he could finish the sentence, Catherine said with a side glance to Jim and Rick:

         “They do.”

Daryl was stunned when he caught on, but then a smile played around his lips.

“Right.”   
 


	22. Chapter 22

After they had spilled the beans, Rick and Daryl felt as though they were walking on air permanently.   
Now that the fear and worries had been taken off their chests, the sun was shining constantly for them and nothing could possibly take the smiles off their faces. They were as happy as never before in their lives and just seeing them like that, made Jim and Cathy happy, too.   
They didn’t make it public at school or let it show throughout the neighborhood. Not because they were ashamed, but because there would be people, dollars to donuts, who didn’t appreciate having to breathe the same air as two of _them,_ and they just didn’t feel like burdening their young love with new problems, more hate and rejection. For the time being they just wanted to enjoy their time together – and they did, every second of the day.  
The only neighbor who was in the loop, was Carol Peletier. And when Daryl had told her during one of her private lessons, she had acknowledged the news with a tiny knowing smile as though she had suspected this all along. And maybe she had.   
Although Jim and Cath accepted and appreciated the boys’ _changed situation_ , Rick and Daryl tried to be discreet and not rub it in by smooching in front of them or walking around the house holding hands. But they had taken to sleeping in one bed after turning Daryl’s room into their shared bedroom and Rick’s into some kind of study/TV and Playstation room. What was going on between the sheets was most definitely speculated upon by their parents, but not questioned. 

Fact of the matter was that whatever was going on between the sheets developed gradually and at a pace they both felt comfortable with.   
For a while there pleasuring each other with just their hands was all they needed and there were nights they just kissed till their lips were swollen and hurt in a good way, caressed each other and snuggled up until they fell asleep in an entangled heap of arms and legs. Warm, content and happy.   
When using their hands wasn’t sufficient anymore, they took the next step and added their mouths to their lovemaking. Until the day they figured that grinding up against each other the way they had done in the shower on Valentine’s day, was as close as it came to actual intercourse. That soon became their favorite.   
They were experimenting, exploring, getting to know each other in ways they had never known anyone else before. Especially in the beginning they had been clumsy and totally clueless as to what they were doing, but it had never been awkward. They indulged in each other’s presence, in every touch and every kiss, even if their noses collided or their teeth clunked together and they came too quickly more often than not. It didn’t matter.   
Daryl remembered that day months back, when he had left his footprint in the virgin snow like Neil Armstrong had left his footprint on the moon. He remembered thinking that it must have been great to be first in doing something or stepping onto unmarked territory – to make a difference in some way.  
And he had. Just like Rick.   
They were each other’s first – the first person they had fallen in love with, the first person they had ever been intimate with, the first person they would one day become one with.   
That last step they hadn’t taken yet. They had time, there was no need to rush things, because unlike Shane’s bed bunnies, Rick was sure that Daryl would still be there in the morning, whether they had actually done it or not. And he would still be there next week, next month, next year.   
_ All in good time _ , his grandfather used to say and the man would know after more than eighty years of life experience. Rick wanted his and Daryl’s first time to be perfect, the most beautiful thing imaginable, and not a quick, meaningless going-through-the-motions. It was worth waiting for.   
Rick wasn’t just Daryl’s first love – he was his first _everything._ The first friend he had ever had, the first person he trusted unconditionally, the first person who would do things for him without expecting anything in return, the first guy who touched him without hurting him. And the first person ever to tell him _‘I love you’._ Rick was his world and vice versa. In a way, they were one already.  
So they waited for that right moment to go all the way. It would come.   
And it did.   
On a warm, sunny summer day almost a year after they first met at the lake in the woods, they had reached the point where becoming one physically was the only way they could express this incredible amount of love they felt for each other. 

They were lying naked next to each other on the warm sandy shore, letting the sun dry their skin after they’d been for a swim, while their hands ran tenderly over the other’s body. They started kissing gently, almost chaste, but soon those kisses became more ardent, needy, urging, with tongues flicking out and licking across the other’s lips and snaking around each other. For several minutes they were lost in the sensual dance of their tongues and their fingers on each other’s skin, until they broke apart in the need for air.   
Daryl pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over Rick, looking him deep in the eyes.   
They didn’t say a word, just let their racing hearts and longing eyes do the talking and in the end they knew that they both wanted it. Now.   
It wasn’t planned, they weren’t prepared, hadn’t brought any lube and never talked about details like who was going to top and who’d bottom, but all that wasn’t important. They wanted each other, that was all that mattered.   
Daryl leaned down to kiss Rick, his long hair tickling his lover and making him smile in between kisses, and without even breaking the contact the younger boy spread his legs unceremoniously in silent permission. Daryl stopped kissing him just shortly, his eyes asking _‘Are you sure?’,_ which was answered by Rick pulling him on top of him while resuming the kissing.   
He remembered how he had wondered on Christmas, if Daryl would be as slow and gentle in every aspect of his life as he had been opening his presents, and Rick got his answer that day. – He was.  
Despite coming from a family where violence was a daily fare and being gentle and loving was considered the same as being weak, Daryl was the most tender and considerate lover imaginable. He took his time, made sure to substitute the missing lube with enough spit to not risk hurting Rick, and every move was a combination of gentleness and passion in just the right way.   
When their bodies melted into one, they both held their breath for a moment, while the world around them seemed to spin faster all of a sudden. Every sound, every scent, every feeling was intensified as Daryl started to carefully thrust into his lover, kissing him and stroking his hair while he did. 

    “Yer alright?” he asked, looking deep into Rick’s eyes. “Feels good?”

    “Better than good”, the younger boy gasped, kissing Daryl harder and prompting him to pick up pace.

They were quiet, save for soft moans and gasps, the stillness of the woods and the peace around the little lake undisturbed, while the old boat was the only witness to their lovemaking. 

Daryl whimpered when he felt his climax close. He knew from a couple of porns he had secretly watched in the internet that this was supposed to last way longer, that they should be doing a couple of changes in positions and talk dirty to each other and stuff, but before he could even apologize to Rick for skipping all that, he came with a suppressed moan, pressing his eyes and lips tightly together as he felt his dick pulsing out his cum.

    “Oh God”, Rick gasped, when he felt the warm sensation inside of him and without even having to touch himself, he came, too.

Daryl’s lips were instantly back on his, while the archer was still inside of him, kissing him as though there was no tomorrow. 

    “Was it okay for ya? Did I hurt ya?” he asked in between kisses, overwhelmed by all these new emotions and barely able to comprehend that this had just happened. 

Only a year ago he’d been all alone, a lost, abused kid with no future and no hope. And now he was here, with a lover, a brother, a friend in his arms, as part of a loving family and a relationship that meant the world to him. 

    “I never felt better”, Rick whispered to him, while he ran his fingers tenderly though Daryl’s unruly hair. 

Eventually the older boy let himself sink to his lover’s side and placed his head on Rick’s shoulder. For a while longer they just caressed each other’s heated skin and indulged in the sated and content feeling.   
They went for another swim to clean up the mess they had made and cool their sweaty skin, and when they stood shoulder high in front of each other in the clear, blue water, Rick pulled Daryl into his arms and said:

    “It’s funny when you think about it, but the best thing that ever happened to me was getting lost in the woods.” 

 

*******

 

It was early October and the leaves of the trees had once again changed their color from green to a variety of hues such as red, yellow, brown and orange.   
Catherine was just placing the dishes from their Saturday morning breakfast into the dishwasher, when a police car pulled up to the curb in front of the Grimes’ residence, once again drawing the attention of the nosier part of the neighborhood.   
By now the gossip failed to concern Jim, Catherine and the boys – the majority of the people living in this development had come to accept and like this family, including Daryl, and didn’t give a damn about what anybody had to say about them. Those were the people the Grimes considered friends – the rest could go to hell for all they cared.   
When Catherine answered the door, she almost had a heartattack. A police car in front of the house never meant good news, so she was grateful that Jim and her sons were home. Whatever happened, it didn’t happen to them.

    “Ma’am”, the young, pretty police woman, whose name tag identified her as Tara Chambler, greeted Catherine.   
    “There is no need to be alarmed”, she hurried to add when she saw the woman’s frightened look. “Can I come in for just a minute? There are a few questions I’d like to ask.”

    “About what?” Cathy replied and received a look from Officer Chambler that translated into “ _Can I come in now or what?”_

    “Who is it, Cath?” Jim asked from the door of his study.

    “Police”, his wife said flatly.

    “You been speeding again, darling?” he teased, knowing that Catherine was the most careful driver on God’s planet. 

Then he approached the front door and greeted Tara with a friendly nod. 

    “What can we do for you, Officer?”

    _“Let me the hell in”,_ the young woman couldn’t help thinking, before she politely repeated her request.

This time she succeeded and a moment later was led into the family room. 

    “This will only take a minute”, she promised. “I’m here to inform you that your son’s bike was found.”

    “Excuse me?” Jim ask with a frown. 

Was that woman serious? He knew that Rick’s bike had been stolen a couple of months ago, but since when did the police send out squad cars to inform people about minor matters like that?

    “Er, maybe I had better explain this. We’ve been investigating a series of burglaries in and around New Hope during the past months and eyewitness reports as well as various traces led back to the _Terminus_ trailer park. Are you familiar with that area?” 

    “I’ve been there once, yes.”

    “May I ask why?” 

Jim’s frown increased.

    “Quite frankly, I don’t see how this is any of your concern or has anything to do with my son’s stolen bike, but you may just as well know. My wife and I are the legal guardians of a teenager from _Terminus_ and I was there to have his father sign the required papers.”

    “Huh”, Tara nodded, “I assume we are talking about Daryl Dixon? Can I speak with the boy, please?” 

    “Not before you’ve told us what this is all about. What has he done?”

The officer held up her hands soothingly, when she noticed Jim’s agitated inflection. 

    “Nothing. We were hoping he could give us some information on a certain Tomas Rodriguez and a few other individuals from that neighborhood.”

Jim and Catherine exchanged a look, then the woman stood and excused herself to get her sons, while her husband offered a cup of coffee to Tara. Apparently this would take longer than just a minute.   
When Daryl and Rick came into the room, the older boy froze instantly.   
Uniforms had that kind of effect on him, although he had never been in trouble with the police himself. But whenever they had showed up on the doorstep in the past, it had been to take Merle away from him or to turn their trailer upside down, looking for stolen goods and drugs. They had never come to invite them to the police ball.   
After Jim had introduced his sons and Officer Chambler, the young woman pulled out a stack of photos and showed them to Daryl.

    “Do you recognize any of these men?”

Daryl’s features turned into a stony façade.

    “Yeah. All a’ ‘em assholes live in _Terminus._ What d’they do?” 

As if he didn’t know, but he was curious which one of the long list of offenses that group was accused of. 

    “We think they are the gang who broke into several houses these past months. They are accused of burglary, dealing in stolen goods, assault and drug possession.”

Daryl looked at her deadpan. 

    “’n’ whadda ya want from me now? I’s not there.”

    “Well”, she replied cautiously, “the serial number on your brother’s bike identified it as his property and an eyewitness in _Terminus_ confirmed that you were present when said bike was stolen.” 

    “I ain’t stealin’ nothin’”, Daryl snapped defensively and again Tara held up her hands soothingly.

    “No, you misunderstood – you are not accused. We need you to confirm the theft as an eyewitness and identify these men.”

The teenager’s eyes narrowed.

    “If ya got a witness seein’ me there, ya coulda asked ‘em ‘bout all this. Whadda ya comin’ to me for?” 

    “Let’s just say”, Tara sighed, “that people in _Terminus_ were very reluctant to speak to the police and not one of them would testify against those men.”

This didn’t come as a surprise. What happened in _Terminus,_ stayed in _Terminus_. The unspoken rule. Despite pretty much everybody hating each other’s guts in that neighborhood, they stuck together nevertheless when it came to the police. No one would ever sing about one of the others, unless they wanted to be labelled as traitor, something that wasn’t too healthy a thing to be in _Terminus._  
But Daryl wasn’t one of them anymore. He got out and if he had a chance to sell those bastard out, he would.

    “Yeah”, he confirmed, “’twas all four a’ ‘em. And as for the rest a’ the crap they’re accused of – know they did all that. Tomas ‘s usin’ an ol’ barn two miles out of _Terminus_ ta hide all a’ the stolen shit in. Been watchin’ him ‘n’ his bootlickers go there often enough.”

Tara’s eyes lit up visibly.

    “This is valuable information, Mr. Dixon.”

    “Don’t call me that”, Daryl grumbled. “ _Mr. Dixon_ ’s ma bastard of a father ‘n’ I hope he’s gonna rot in hell soon. ‘m Daryl.”

    “Alright then – Daryl. Would you be willing to show us that barn and testify against Shumpert Bowman and Mitch Dolgen, if that should be necessary?”

    “What about the others?” Jim cut in, pointing at the pictures of Tomas and Andrew.  
     
    “They resisted arrest after a burglary two nights ago and opened fire on the police. They were shot”, Officer Chambler replied with a cold inflection. 

Apparently she held little empathy for people that shot at her colleagues.   
Daryl exchanged a look with Rick and there was so much relief in the older boy’s blue eyes that Rick couldn’t help smiling.  
He was gone. Tomas and his gang were history, as was Will Dixon. One by one their problems diminished.

    “Sure”, Daryl said with a nod in reply to Tara’s question. “Does ma bro get his bike back?” 

A smile tugged at the corners of the Officer’s lips.

    “Absolutely. You just need to pick it up at the station downtown.”

Downtown. Daryl thought that calling the center of a city as small as New Hope ‘downtown’ was pretty ambitious, but why take it with a pinch of salt?  
After thanking the Grimes for the coffee and their cooperation, Officer Tara Chambler left and with a wide grin Rick turned to Daryl and held out his hand for a brofist.   
That was still their substitute kiss when they weren’t in private and since they got enough ‘real’ kisses these days, it worked perfectly fine for them without being frustrating.  

    “I’m not even gonna ask how your bike got to _Terminus_ , Rick Grimes”, Jim said sternly. “And I don’t want to know what other activities around that trailer park you are informed about, Daryl.”

    “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, ever. I’s never involved.”

    “I know that”, Jim said consiliatorily. “I just want you both to stay clear of that place – it’s history as far as this family is concerned.” 

Daryl looked down and stepped from one foot onto the other uncomfortably.

    “What?” Jim asked, almost dreading the answer. “Spit it out.” 

    “We ’s there a few times this summer – visitin’ the Morales. Sorry, we shoulda told ya.” 

Catherine and Jim exchanged a look and felt bad all of a sudden.   
The Morales. That friendly, Mexican family, who were friends of Daryl’s – they had completely forgotten about them. Hadn’t invited them over for their 4th of July BBQ or any of their birthday parties, pretty much like the Grimes had been forgotten by their old friends in Trenton by now. After declining the invitation to Shane and Sarah’s combined birthday party, they hadn’t heard from them again. Maybe Shane had spilled the beans by now and a family with two gay sons, who were even lovers now, probably wasn’t befitting their social status.   
Neither Jim, nor Catherine cared. If people didn’t want to be friends anymore, because they considered themselves better than them or couldn’t accept their sons, then they weren’t even worth their friendship. The Grimes just never wanted to become like them, but apparently they just had.

    “I feel like a complete douchebag right now”, Jim confessed and ran a hand through his hair. 

    “Uh-huh”, Catherine agreed, “count me in. Those people were so nice and did so much for Daryl and we totally forgot about them. Good thing you boys were more considerate than your dad and I were.”

    “Is it okay for ‘em ta come over for Halloween?” Daryl asked, taking advantage of the adults’ remorse without even feeling bad about it.   
    “’s much nicer ‘round here ta go trick-or-treatin’ than in _Terminus._ ”

    “Of course”, Catherine said instantly and unseen by her or Jim, Daryl turned around and winked at Rick. 

Suppressing a smirk, the younger boy looked at this partner and said:

    “But no dressing up as a zombie again this year, _please._ That was gross as shit.” 

Daryl laughed out loud. 

    “Can’t promise nothing. I kinda liked Tobin’s dumb face when he saw me.”  
     
    “Yeah, next time he’s probably gonna shoot you”, Rick commented dryly.

    “So? Zombie are already dead, right?”

    “Oh, brother. For someone who hates zombies so much, you sure know lots about them.” 

Jim and Catherine retracted to the kitchen to have some more coffee and as soon as they were out of earshot, Rick added:

    “Just want you to know – if you stink of guts and blood again, you’re gonna sleep on the couch, if you catch my meaning.” 

Daryl grinned at that, but didn’t reply. He hadn’t seriously considered dressing up again, especially since there were no guts and blood available anymore.   
He loved and valued his new crossbow and carried it with him still when heading into the woods.   
Old habits died hard and he felt safer with it out there, although he wasn’t sure what he was worried about. There was no danger in those woods, unless a bunch of squirrels with rabies were out to attack him and Rick.   
But he hadn’t killed ever since he had left _Terminus_ for good. It wasn’t necessary any longer and squirrel or opossum definitely were not on the Grimes’ menu. Maybe they would have appreciated a delicious venison, but it had always pained Daryl to kill a deer – they were such beautiful, peaceful and graceful creatures. He enjoyed watching them run away far more than seeing them collapse with a bolt piercing their neck or flank. So there’d be no zombie costume ever again, which was perfectly fine with him. Had he mentioned yet that he hated zombies anyway?  
If he wanted to scare people, there were easier ways – he could just show up on their doorsteps just the way he was. He was aware of the fact that some people would never be able to accept him, would always just see _the odd guy from Terminus_ in him.   
But those people grew fewer and fewer. Maybe one day they’d be an extinct species around here, without Catherine having to shoot them first. 

 

*******  
    

Rick graduated from high school the summer two years later.   
Despite Carol’s tireless support and Daryl’s iron will and ambition, the deficiencies had been too high for him to keep up, so he was downgraded and had to repeat a school year.   
He didn’t mind one more year at school. He was widely respected by now, was even considered ‘cool’ by most of the guys and ‘cute’ by quite a bunch of girls and no one dared bully him anymore for being from _Terminus_ or _just a Dixon._ That was almost forgotten.   
Daryl tried to put the past behind him and not think of the horrible years of his childhood anymore. And although he still bore the name, he considered himself a Grimes by now – not primarily as Jim and Catherine’s son, but as the man by Rick’s side. He might have been shooting ahead in that respect and he hadn’t mentioned a word to Rick about his fantasies of ‘forever’, but they were there and he held on to them. There was no alternative, because the end of this relationship wouldn’t only mean losing a lover, but his brother and best friend at the same time. That just wasn’t an option, could never happen.   
He didn’t see a failure in having to repeat a grade – he worked hard and he wasn’t dumb, he just had a bad start in life – but he knew he’d catch up. Even the slowest racer would reach the goal eventually as long as he didn’t fall, didn’t lose the way and kept going.   
The only thing that hurt Daryl profoundly was the separation from Rick.   
While Daryl did his lap of honor, Rick was off to college. He had chosen UPenn, one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in the country and member of the Ivy League. It was situated in Philadelphia, only few miles away from home, so Rick was able to visit with his lover and parents daily, theoretically. But in the end the time-consuming studies prevented this and he only came home at the weekends, and sometimes not even then.

They were living in different worlds again. 

While Rick was in college, Daryl tried to do as best as he could in his senior year at high school, while he worked at Martinez’s garage as often as possible in between school and his studies. Not because he needed the money, but because he really loved the bikes he got to work on and enjoyed the job.   
Caesar Martinez was a fair boss and he and Daryl got along perfectly. Once in a while Daryl was even allowed to ride one of the bikes and next to being out in the woods, nothing made him feel more alive and free than the feeling of the wind in his hair, the sound of all that horsepower beneath him and the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he flew over the blacktop of the highways.   
He had never done anything illegal – until now. And he knew it. He did feel guilty about it, but there was no way he was going to stop riding these motorcycles as often as he could. It had long since become an obsession and he was addicted to that feeling – and one of these days he would even get a driver’s license. Cross his heart and hope to die.  
There was no way though he would let Jim and Catherine cover the expenses for the driving lessons, so he was saving the money he was making at Martinez’s and hoped that fate wasn’t a complete bitch and would spare him from being involved in an accident or stopped by a highway patrol till he had his license.   
If there was anything at all that was probably even more terrific than riding a bike, it was riding a bike together with Rick. Everything was twice as much fun when Rick was there with him and Daryl longed for the day he’d have his permit, so he could finally take his boyfriend for a ride.    
It was one thing to lie to his employer about having a license and riding bikes that weren’t his. It was another one to do it with the person he loved most in this world in back and thus risking to get him in trouble, too. That wouldn’t happen. Never.   
So Daryl worked like a man possessed. He still didn’t need expensive clothes or other unnecessary luxury goods. He rather saved every dime for a dream to come true, and that was Rick pressed to his back with his arms tightly wrapped around him, while they rode into the sunset together…   
Thoughts like this didn’t even make Daryl cringe anymore, they made him smile, which showed more clearly than anything else that he wasn’t a Dixon anymore. He was a Grimes. 

Daryl missed Rick like crazy and he knew that Rick missed him, too.

Even more than missing each other they were both afraid that the separation and their different life circumstances would come between them and tear them apart.   
The summer before Rick had left for UPenn they had spent almost day and night at the lake. They had held each other close like they never wanted to let go again and had made love almost desperately, as though it was for the last time. Neither boy had said it out loud, but they dreaded the worst and spent each moment as though they were going to war, not to different schools.  

When Christmas came that year, they knew all worries had been unnecessary.   
The separation hadn’t harmed their relationship – on the contrary. They had more things to tell each other now and their reunions were twice as happy and passionate after having been apart for a while.   
The previous September Rick had turned nineteen and Daryl was pushing twenty now. That Christmas they talked about ‘forever’ for the first time.

    “I want us to be together, Daryl”, Rick said softly when he was holding his partner in his arms after their lovemaking that night. “You know, forever. When college is through and we’re a little older and if you want that, too, I’d like to make it official.”

Daryl lifted his head off Rick’s chest and propped himself up on one elbow, looking deep into the eyes of his man – a sight he’d never grow tired of. 

    “Official as in …?” 

He held up his left hand, wiggling the ring finger and Rick nodded with a grin. And the way Daryl kissed him left no doubt about his answer.   
They were still so very young and it was their first relationship, but those thoughts didn’t even cross their minds. It was perfect and absolutely right, so why question it? It was what it was. 

*****

Two days after Christmas Rick’s happiness was crushed by a message in his inbox – a message from Shane.   
Three years. It had been three years since he had last heard from the man and now he wrote him an email out of nowhere, as though he still had the right to send him _anything_ at all _._  
Rick’s initial impulse was to delete it without even reading it, but there was this sinister feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t ignore, the feeling that this might be important and something he should know about.   
So despite himself, he opened his ex-friend’s email and started reading.

It was longer than he had expected and hit Rick like a thunderbolt. 

 

    _Rick –_

_ How are you, man? I know I probably don’t have the right to ask you that. I forfeit that right a long time ago and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.  _

_ I don’t know if this still means anything now, after all these years, but I want you to know that you were right – about everything. I was an asshole and a fool and I not only destroyed a wonderful friendship, but wasted precious time. And I’m not just talking about the years I spent with meaningless flings, but the years I still would have had and that are gone now before they even started.  _

_ I guess we all get what we deserve in the end, so I hope this Daryl dude is still by your side and you are still happy with him. You were right waiting for the right person and holding on with both hands to that one true love when you found it. _

_ I probably got what I deserve, too. I’ve got AIDS. I don’t know how long I still have. There are treatments these days, but nothing changes the fact that it’s still a lethal disease and there is no cure. _  
_ I will never have a family, will never know what it feels like to truly love someone and be loved in return. I wasted that chance on quick, meaningless lays with countless chicks whose names I don’t even recall and looking back, it wasn’t worth it.  _

_ You tried to tell me and I didn’t listen. You tried to be a friend and I pushed you away. Who am I to look down on you, when in fact I am the biggest loser, the greatest fool and the worst friend in the world?  _

_ I loved you, man. You were my brother and I wasn’t there for you, when you needed me. Losing you is the greatest loss of them all. If I still had a life to give, I would give it to get you back, to have you as my friend again, but I can’t turn back time. And I’d understand, if you couldn’t forgive and forget. I don’t even have the right to ask you to.  _

_ Maybe one day you can look back and only see the good times we had, not the mess I made after that. And when you remember me,  _ if _you remember me, I hope you’ll do it with a smile and no more hate and anger in your heart._

_ I wish you a life full of love and laughter, a family and someone by your side, who sees what a great guy you are and never forgets. _

_ Take care – _

_ Shane _

 

When he finished reading the email, Rick was sobbing like a baby, hot tears running down his cheeks and dripping down onto the keyboard of his laptop.  
Daryl heard him from the room next door and appeared in the doorway only a second later. 

    “Sssh”, he soothed, while he wrapped his arms around his partner from behind and pressed his head to Rick’s, nudging it gently. “What happened?” 

    “Shane”, the younger man replied with a sob. “He’s dying.” 

    “Damn, man, ‘m sorry. I know ya used ta be close.“ 

He didn’t say a word about Shane acting like a jackass, although he knew about all that from what Rick had told him. It wasn’t important.   
When the life of someone you once loved came to an end, it was the good times that mattered, the things that once united you, not those that drove you apart, because the good things needed to be remembered to give that person some kind of immortality. When people were able to make another one laugh and feel loved, if only for a while, they deserved no less than that kind of immortality when they went. 

    “C’mon”, Daryl prompted gently, before he took Rick’s hand and led him to their bed next door. 

Lying down on top of the good old quilt, he pulled his lover along and wrapped his arms around him. For a while he just ran his fingers soothingly through the man’s curls and over his back, while Rick still sobbed and clung to him like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. 

“Know what – I’d like ta hear ‘bout Shane, if ya feel up to it. Ya never told me ‘bout how ya guys grew up, the things ya did together, what kind a’ person he was before he … _changed._ ”

    “Not now, Daryl. Maybe later, but not right now.”

    “’kay.” He placed a loving kiss on his partner’s hair and then reached to his nightstand without letting go of Rick and opened the drawer. 

A moment later he had brought out a book. A book with the Auryn symbol on the cover and red and green writing.

    “Remember this?” he said softly. “We still haven’t finished it. I still don’t know if it ends well.”

    “Why d’you wanna know?” Rick said, wiping the back of his hand over his red-rimmed eyes and pulling in a deep breath. “Your story did end well, didn’t it?” 

Daryl resumed running his fingers through his lover’s hair before he replied:

    “Ma story ain’t over yet. And neither’s yers. Maybe this has never been our story in the first place. So, wanna find out now?” 

Snuggling up closer, Rick just nodded wordlessly and Daryl opened the book where he had left the bookmark such a long time ago and started reading.   
Two hours later he closed the book with a content smile, after finishing the last sentence.

    _But that’s another story and shall be told another time._

He placed it back on the nightstand and looked into the relaxed features of his friend. Rick had long since stopped crying and had listen attentively, while Daryl’s deep baritone had lulled him in and soothed the pain. 

    “D’ya like it?”

    “Dunno. It’s not really an end.”

A smile spread over Daryl’s face.

    “’s _The Neverendin’ Story_ , Rick. Neverendin’ stories ain’t got no end. But Bastian ‘n’ Atreyu – despite their friendship havin’ been broken for a while, they found the way back to each other in the end. Bastian went home ‘n’ all the stories he left unfinished … Atreyu promised ta finish ‘em for him, so he … ya know, would find his peace.”

New tears pooled in Rick’s eyes when he caught Daryl’s meaning. 

    “So what you’re saying is that nobody’s story ever ends, because there’s others, who will pick up where they left off and continue those unfinished stories for them. And as soon as they have, there will yet be others continuing the stories of that person and so on and so forth.”

    “Right. We’re all connected, all part a’ this neverendin’ story. No one remembers how it began and there ain’t never gonna be no end. – I love this book.”

He kissed his partner tenderly and then they lay silently in each other’s arms for a moment longer, before Rick said softly:

    “I should go to Trenton and, you know, find the way back to him, so he can go peacefully, too.”   
He swallowed against the stinging sensation in his eyes.  
    “And I’m gonna do what you said – live my life for the both of us and try to finish all his unfinished stories.” 

Daryl nodded with the ghost of a smile.

    “’m gonna give ya a hand.”

    “Yeah?” Rick’s heart felt lighter all of a sudden and he looked up to meet his partner’s eyes.  
    “What’s your part in that story?”

    “I’m your luckdragon, I guess”, he teased. 

    “No”, Rick kissed him gently and ran the back of his hand tenderly over his cheek. “You always gonna be my angel.” 

    “Man, ya _are_ lucky Merle ain’t here or not even a luckdragon could save ya from havin’ yer head shoved down the toilet now.”   


	23. Chapter 23

The new year started with a commotion and a major surprise for the guests of Jim and Catherine’s New Year’s party.   
For the longest time this house hadn’t given the neighborhood a new reason for gossip and as though they had decided to not let their neighbors off the hook so easily, the Grimes had invited the Morales family to their party. Immigrants from Mexico, from _Terminus,_ being welcomed into this development, this house, would most definitely separate the wheat from the chaff once and for all. It was the hosts, who were in for a surprise when nothing happened.   
Julio and his family were welcomed like everybody else and after knowing Daryl for years now, the people of _Hilltop_ had apparently understood that not everybody coming from _Terminus_ was a murderer and cut-throat.   
The commotion wasn’t caused by a nice immigrant family, but by two young men starting the new year with an ardent kiss right in the middle of everybody as soon as the ball in New York had dropped, causing several jaws to drop along with it.

         “Happy New Year!” Carol toasted to everybody around. “To young love and tolerance!”

For a split second it was quiet, but then the Morales and the boys’ parents joined in and one by one the smiles returned to the neighbors’ faces. 

         “That pretty much explains why you never had any girls visit here, despite having two handsome sons”, Tobin commented dryly, much to the Grimes’ surprise.  
         “And I thought there was something wrong with them.” 

That said he walked away to get another glass of champagne and left the four members of the family stare after him with wide eyes. Then they broke out laughing. If there was anyone they had not expected _this_ from, it was Tobin. Apparently still waters did run deep and that day Tobin started to be more than a neighbor – he became a friend. Despite his ugly garden gnome. 

 

A day before his birthday, Daryl asked Jim to drive him up to Mahonoy to see Merle.   
Ever since that day three years ago, Daryl hadn’t visited with his brother, hadn’t written a letter, hadn’t called – and neither had Merle. Although they were blood, it was as though they had ceased to exist to each other, but Rick and Shane had Daryl thinking. Life was short and there was no telling if there’d ever be another chance to make amends.   
Merle’s time in jail would be up soon and before he got out, there were things he had to know about. First of all, that he didn’t have a home anymore and second of all, that his brother had been dating a guy for years now, that he was one of the queers Merle used to taunt. As soon as Daryl had told him, the ball would be in his brother’s court. Whatever happened after that was up to Merle. 

When Daryl and Jim came home that afternoon, Daryl was pale and looked depressed, biting his thumbnail time and again in a way he hadn’t done in ages. 

         “He didn’t take it too well, huh?” Rick said sympathetically. 

He tried to pull his partner into a hug, but Daryl placed a hand flat on his chest and held him back. 

         “He’s gone”, he said in a choked voice and when Rick’s eyes widened in shock, he hurried to explain:  
         “Nah, I mean he left. He was released early for good behavior.”  
Daryl gave a humorless laugh.  
         “Good behavior! Ma brother Merle ‘n’ good behavior. They gotta be shittin’ me. I thought they was gonna give him extra time, but, nah, the asshole hadda be unpredictable as usual ‘n’ took a hike. Didn’t even tell me. Just left a letter.”

He held a piece of paper out to Rick and, lifting his eyebrows, the younger man skimmed the almost illegible scrawl. 

 

         _Hey there, li’l brother –_

_ I know yer probably pissed as hell and disappointed in yer ol’ brother Merle right now, and I ain’t blaming ya.  _  
_ Believe it or not, but I always meant to do right by ya, really wanted to get ya out of that shithole and away from the old bastard, so you’d have a better life.  _  
_ But I messed up and someone else beat me to it. Someone who’s much better for you than I ever was. Could ever be.  _  
_ I don’t fit into yer new life, would only mess things up further, maybe destroy it all. Ain’t taking that risk. Yer better off without me. _

_ Take care, baby brother, and don’t do anything I would. _

_ Merle _

_ P.S. Happy 20th birthday, Darylena. Hope those peeps was able ta make a man outta ya by now.  _

 

Rick dropped his arm and let go of the letter. Like a leaf in the wind it gently sailed down onto the floor.

         “I’m sorry, Daryl.”

         “Don’t be. Don’t even know why I’m surprised or hurt. This is typical Merle.”

         “Do you have any idea where he could have gone? The trailer is gone and …”

         “Nah, dunno. He ain’t got nobody ‘n’ no place ta go to, except …” He looked around himself and then let his eyes wander over the faces of his family.  
         “Maybe he’s right. He wouldn’t fit in ‘n’ it may be better that way. Still – he’s ma brother. I woulda liked ta see him after all that time, tell him about ya.”  
         “Jackass”, he muttered after a long, silent moment, before he bowed and picked up the letter, crumbled it up in his fist and then tossed it into the trash. 

‘Jackass’ would be the last word he ever said about his brother. After that he never mentioned him again.   
Daryl never saw Merle again, either, but a day after his futile visit to the Mahonoy SCI, he started getting postcards as signs of life. The first one was just the picture of a birthday cake and was signed ‘M’, which may have been one of the nicest birthday presents Daryl had ever gotten from his brother.  
The postcards kept coming over the years. Merle never wrote a single word, never told his brother where he was or how he was doing, but the messages implied that Merle knew exactly what was going on in Daryl’s life. He was near or at least stopped by once in a while to make sure his little brother was alright.   
In a weird kind of way the two Dixon brothers never appreciated each other more than they did now. 

 

*******

 

That summer Daryl graduated high school with quite respectable marks.    
He wasn’t an A student and wouldn’t get a place in the hall of fame of this institution, but he made it, which was all he had wanted.    
Rick was proud of him, as were his parents, Dr. Greene, the Morales and not least of all Carol Peletier – so he allowed himself to be proud, too.    
Apparently he wasn’t the stupid, worthless piece of shit his father had told him he was, because right now he was the only Dixon with a high school diploma.   
And the only Dixon with an honest and decent job. Although Jim and Catherine had offered to send him to college, too, Daryl had declined with thanks and had opted for accepting Martinez’s offer to work at the bike shop full time.    
Words and figures weren’t his friends, but the smell of motor oil and gas and the sound of a roaring engine, that was his world. He was good with his hands – something Rick would have confirmed at any time – and he loved bikes almost as much as he loved his partner. Almost.    
First of all though, Daryl was ambitious next to being skilled and enthusiastic and three years later, the same year Rick finished college, Caesar Martinez made him his business associate.   
A Dixon in a higher position in a respectable, honest job – Daryl wished Merle would be able to see him.    
And apparently Merle did, because a few days later a postcard with a ‘thumbs up’ symbol on the front and signed ‘M’, as usual, was in the mail. It got a special place on the fridge and each time Daryl saw it, he smiled. 

 

Daryl loved his new job, but he wouldn’t have minded two months of summer vacation the way he had when he was still in school.    
His graduation had only been a month ago and already his life had changed entirely. He had a different schedule, more responsibility and people, who expected him to do something for _them,_ not work for himself the way he had at school. If he screwed up and didn’t get repairs done on time or the way the clients expected, they would tell him – or worse, they would tell his boss. And being someone who’d been raised in the belief that confrontations had to be settled with the fists, it was the hardest task for him to stay calm and friendly and just swallow it. Luckily he barely ever screwed up.    
It wasn’t dealing with people that was hardest about the new job. It was knowing that Rick was home on semester vacation and they should be at the lake, but could not. At least not as much as they would have liked to.   
They had the weekends, the evenings – and the nights.    
Several times during that summer Daryl would come home from work, take a shower – more often than not together with Rick – and then the lovers would grap something to eat and head out into the woods.    
The lake was still their sacred place, as was the cave, but unlike before these places weren’t a hideout any longer. There was no reason to run and hide and be scared anymore, so the woods were twice as beautiful and magical to them now than they’d ever been before. The lake was their playground and the cave their love nest and they were so immensely happy and in love, that nothing could possibly bring a cloud to their sky. At least that’s what they thought, that summer. But the months to come would proved them wrong. 

 

*****

 

When the first snow fell that winter, Shane died of pneumonia.    
Rick had just returned to UPenn after the Thanksgiving weekend, when his mother called him with tears in her voice, telling him the devastating news and asking him to come home.   
The entire drive back to _Hilltop_ Rick felt numb, as though he was only an outside observer and not really the man who had just lost his childhood friend.    
Their friendship had followed a rocky road for a while and it had almost gone south, but after Shane had come to his senses and apologized to Rick, they’d been able to mend it. It had never been the same again, but then _they_ weren’t the same anymore. They had moved on without each other and their lives didn’t include the other anymore, but the bond wasn’t entirely broken. Their shared background and countless memories connected them.   
Ever since Shane’s New Year’s message, they had resumed sending emails to each other at least once a month and these messages had been about the things that _really_ mattered – their families, friends and hopes and dreams for the future. _Rick’s_ hopes and dreams for the future.   
It had been hard to bear for Rick at times, that Shane didn’t seem to have any of his own anymore, as though he had expected not to live much longer, as though he had _known._ Each time Rick had told him about Daryl, about how he hoped to spend the rest of his life with him, Shane had told him he was happy for him, for them, but he always closed with the regretting words “ _I wish I had listened to you”._   
There were times that Rick had wondered, if he should even still tell Shane about Daryl and about how happy they were with each other. About how his family was a family again and that his parents were currently planning a second honeymoon. About his studies, his plans to become a lawyer for family law and his partner’s job at Martinez’s, about the wonderful places Daryl had shown him in the woods and how they had become a second home.    
To Shane all this must have felt like he was twisting the knife, but each time Rick had voiced his concerns about telling his old friend all the good news, Shane had insisted, had asked him for details, the whole story, _everything._   
It was as though he wanted to be part of Rick’s life again the way he used to be, wanted to be _there,_ if only in his imagination. If he had hoped for some delicate _details_ as far as Rick and Daryl’s love relationship was concerned, he had waited in vain though.    
For months they had planned to visit with each other. Countless times Rick had asked Shane to come to New Hope, so he would meet Daryl and see their new home, but it had never happened. Time and again they had postponed their reunion, until at last they had promised, sworn even, that this Christmas they would make it happen. Definitely. By all means. One hundred percent.  

Rick felt a tear run down his cheek and suppressed a sob. He would never see him again. They had waited too long and now Shane was gone and all his stories were left unfinished. 

The moment Rick pulled into the driveway the front door opened and Daryl appeared on the front porch.    
With a heavy heart and feet as heavy as lead, the younger man got out and slowly climbed up the stairs to the porch, where he fell wordlessly into his lover’s arms and started to cry. 

         “It wasn’t his time”, he sobbed. “It was just a stupid pneumonia, Daryl. Who the heck still dies of pneumonia these days?”

Daryl just held him and ran his hands soothingly over Rick’s back. The question was rhetorical and he knew it. There wasn’t a thing in the world he could say to take his partner’s pain away, so he didn’t even try.   
When Rick’s sobs subsided he pulled him gently into the house, where they stood wordlessly in front of each other, Rick still fighting for his composure.   
He was pulled in by Daryl’s calm and gentle blue eyes, but unlike all the times before they didn’t soothe him, didn’t take the pain away – on the contrary. It was so easy to forget, so easy to ignore that life was short and each day was a gift, not a given right. There was no guarantee to turn eighty and have a long and fulfilled life.    
Shane would have been twenty next March. _Twenty_. He was still a teenager when he died, never even reached the legal drinking age – something he would probably have considered the greatest tragedy about his early death – and all the things that Rick had still planned for his life, they were never going to happen to his friend.

         “It’s not fair”, Rick said feebly. 

         “Never is”, Daryl replied softly. “No matter how old somebody is, their story’s never told. ‘s like we said – ya gotta finish his for him.” 

         “How do I do that?” 

         “Just do better than he did. Use yer time ‘n’ do the things he woulda wanted ta do, but never got around to.”

Rick pulled his partner into his arms and hugged him tight.

         “Nobody should die without having been in love at least once. He never knew what it feels like.” 

         “See”, Daryl pulled back a little and placed a tender kiss on his man’s mouth, “ya finished one chapter for him already.”

         “No, that chapter’s part of my story, _ours._ I don’t think it’s possible to write anybody else’s story without losing your own out of sight.”  
          
         “Maybe, but they’re entwined. He’ll always be part of yers, so he’s part a’ mine, too, though I never even met the dude. – What was he like?”

         “He was an Aries”, Rick replied as though that should say it all. “You’re a Capricorn.” 

Daryl frowned and released him to take a step back.

         “Yer gonna gimme a lecture on horned cattle now or what?” 

         “Uh-huh. And you know what happens if two males clash. Maybe it was for the better the two of you never met.”

         “Ya know, ‘em two males only use their horns if they fight over a female. Don’t really see that happenin’ here.”    
He cast Rick a meaningful glance.   
         “I woulda liked ta meet him.” 

The younger man sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard against a new lump in his throat.

         “You can”, he sighed. “Are you gonna go to the funeral with me?”

Daryl lifted his arm and ran a hand tenderly over Rick’s hair.

         “Sure. ‘s there anythin’ else I can do for ya?” 

Any other time this may have been an ambiguous question, accompanied by a seductive sparkle in Daryl’s shadow blue eyes, but this was barely the time for teasing. He meant it.    
They looked at each other silently for a moment and Daryl could see the turmoil of emotions that was raging inside his friend by the way the cerulean orbs were darker than usual and the handsome features looked strained.

         “Yes”, Rick answered, his voice thick with emotions. “I … I don’t want us to wait any longer.”

He reached for Daryl’s hand and held onto it while he nervously stepped from one foot onto the other.

         “It can all be over from one moment to the next and … and … I just don’t wanna wait for a day that may never come.”   
New tears flooded his eyes.   
         “I know we said after I finished college and all, but … but … let’s get married now. Whadda you say? First thing tomorrow.”

         “Oh, my God”, a female voice down the hallway interrupted Rick’s proposal and had him cast an annoyed glance to his mother.

         “Mom, you’re disturbing here. Do you mind?” 

With a mixture of confusion and embarrassment she retracted instantly, while Rick focused on his partner again.

         “So, are you gonna marry me?”

The older man looked at his lover deadpan for just a second, then he pulled back his hand and took a step back.

         “Nah.”

Rick felt as though a bucket of ice water had been emptied over his head and gasped.

         “What? But … but I thought … we said … you said …”

         “Hey”, Daryl placed both hands on Rick’s shoulders and shook him. “Snap outta it, will ya? The hell ya think yer doin’?”

His confusing melting into annoyance, the younger man replied defensively:

         “I was proposing, in case you haven’t noticed.”

         “Nah, ya was panickin’ ‘n’ that ain’t no proposal, that’s a rash action, no more. Ya lost a friend ‘n’ yer upset, I get that, but that don’t mean we’re all gonna die tomorrow or next week. Yeah, sure, chance is there, but that’s life. Don’t mean we have ta rush through it now ta not miss anything. That’s stupid.”

Before Rick had a chance to cut in and have his say, Daryl added mercilessly:

         “And ya know – yer not the only one who lost Shane. Ya said he was like a brother to ya, so I guess mom ‘n’ dad loved him, too. Ya hadda snap at her like that?”

With a contrite air on his face, Rick took great interest in the tip of his shoes all of a sudden, while he breathed in deep. 

         “Shit”, he muttered under his breath and Daryl’s anger vaporized.

         “Hey”, he said again, this time much softer. “I already said I’s gonna marry ya, remember? But we’re gonna stick to the plan. After ya finished college. I ain’t plannin’ ta go nowhere, but if Fate’s a bitch and ‘s not gonna meant ta happen, then there ain’t nothin’ ya can do ‘bout it. Can’t live in fear from now on.”

Rick lifted his head and with his lips pressed together nodded quietly. Just when he opened his mouth to say something, Daryl beat him to it.

         “Case ya gonna say that ya acted like a jackass again – I agree. And now go ‘n’ apologize ta mom.”

Despite himself a smile spread over Rick’s face.

         “Damn, I’ve become way too predictable.”

         “Nah, I just know ya better than anyone else.” 

         “Doesn’t that scare you?” Rick teased.

         “Like hell”, Daryl commented dryly. 

His heart a little lighter all of a sudden, Rick laughed while he wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist, a gesture that was mirrored by Daryl instantly. Then they walked down the hallway together to give their mother a hug and brace themselves to close the last chapter of Shane Walsh’s story. 


	24. Chapter 24

Daryl stepped out of Martinez’s garage and stretched his aching back.    
The Harley he’d been working on all day had been a bitch and the more parts he had removed to find the actual problem, the more problems had occurred. In the end Daryl felt as though he had taken the entire bike apart and put it back together, but now it was as good as new.    
Caesar had called it a day an hour ago and had entrusted the garage and store keys to Daryl, asking him to lock up when he left. The man probably wasn’t even aware of it, but this was another milestone in Daryl’s life. When he had still lived in _Terminus_ , people wouldn’t even have entrusted the key to their diary to a Dixon, let alone to a store full of valuable motorcycles.    
It was moments like this when Daryl thanked the higher forces above for having a rich city boy from Trenton get lost in his woods without cell phone service, so they could end up saving each other’s lives. 

A wide smile spread over the young man’s face when his eyes came to rest on the shiny, dark blue Honda Valkyrie that was parked outside. His very own bike!   
He had saved enough money to pay for his driver’s license and for his 21st birthday three months ago, his parents had insisted on buying him his own bike. They had reasoned that if Rick had gotten a car, it was only fair for him to get his own set of wheels, too. Both vehicles were used and didn’t have any fancy extras, but this was exactly how Rick and Daryl had wanted it.    
Rick had told his parents straight out that he appreciated their support and the generous gift, but that he wasn’t one of the rich kids that had to brag with any expensive stuff their parents’ money bought. He just needed a car to get to college and back and a small, unspectacular, used one would do.   
Daryl had never loved him more than in that moment.   
The Valkyrie may have been a tad too big to meet his specifications of ‘humble’ and ‘modest’, but it had been a real bargain and they would have been stupid to say ‘no’. He loved it. It was gorgeous, it ran like greased lightning and it was blue. Not as blue as Rick’s eyes, but still blue – that would always be his favorite color. 

The moment he had mounted and was about to put the helmet on, a voice behind him had him freeze.

         “See ya travelin’ in style these days.”

_ No!  _ It couldn’t be. Please, no.

         “Hey, ’m talkin’ to ya, _son_. Ain’t ya gonna say Hi ta yer ol’ man?” 

Despite himself Daryl started to tremble like an aspen leaf and felt his throat close up all of a sudden. Slowly, as though there was a poisonous snake behind him, he turned his head and looked straight into Will Dixon’s cold eyes. 

         “Surprise”, the older man sneered. “D’ya miss me?” 

         “Ya ‘s supposed ta leave the state ‘n’ never come back. ‘twas the deal. Ya got enough money sellin’ me the way ya did, so whadda ya want?” 

The older man took a threatening step closer to Daryl and flinching violently, the archer was off his bike in an instant and made sure to keep it between him and his father.

         “Whadda ya want?” he yelled, when Will wouldn’t answer.

         “Make an educated guess, stupid”, came the reply in a dangerously dark growl. “It’s been a couple a’ years. D’ya think money lasts forever? Not the amount I got for ya li’l maggot.”

He circled the bike to get to his son, but Daryl moved around it simultaneously, so Will had no chance to reach him.

         “Ya ain’t gettin’ no more. Get lost ‘n’ leave me alone.”

         “Or what? Whadda ya gonna do, huh, ya poor excuse for a Dixon.”

         “I ain’t no Dixon anymore. I’m done bein’ a fuckin’ Dixon.”

Will broke out laughing.

         “D’ya really think just ‘cause some idiots took ya in, yer ever gonna be anythin’ else but a Dixon? Yer _ma_ blood, whether ya wanna be or not, and ya can’t shake where ya came from, boy.” 

         “Yeah, I can. Already did. I finished high school, got a job, have a real family now, a partner …”

He froze the moment he noticed his slip and grew pale. Maybe Will hadn’t heard it or he didn’t catch his meaning, but the way his father’s eyes grew piercing and cold as ice shot that hope down. 

         “ _Partner_?” he growled. “Now I don’t know what’d be worse – if one a' ma sons had become a pig or was a fuckin’ queer. But since ya slavin’ in this store here, I suppose the cop theory was just blown outta the fuckin’ water.”

Will shot forward and tried to grab Daryl across the bike, but the younger man took a quick step backwards and avoided him. In a sudden immense rush of fury, Will Dixon shoved the Valkyrie with all his strength and sent the bike crashing down onto the pavement.

         “No!”   

Daryl stared at his father with blazing eyes, but the hate that distorted the older man’s face had him gasp. The aura of danger was palpable even over the distance. Will Dixon had almost killed him years ago for _not_ telling him about Rick. This time, if Will managed to get his hands on him, he would kill him, because he did. 

          “Yer _ma_ fuckin’ son, God damnit! Ya’ve always been a pussy, but I never thought ya’s one a’ ‘em disgustin’ degenerates, who take a dude’s dick up their ass.”

They continued their circling around each other, while Daryl felt his fear subside and make room for cold fury.    
He didn’t give a damn about what that man said about him. He’d heard so much over the years, that it bounced off of him without causing any damage. But no one, _no one,_ would call Rick ‘degenerated’ or ‘disgusting’ simply for loving someone of his own gender. No one would ever call Rick, his Rick, _anything_ without risking to get their head ripped off, and Will was asking for it right now. 

         “Only degenerate ‘round here’s _you_!” Daryl yelled back. “’stead a’ payin’ ya money, they shoulda shot ya like some rabid mutt. I swear ta God, if ya ever get near ma partner or ma family or friends, I’ll kill ya. Ya hear me, ya sonuvabitch? ‘m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.” 

With a furious snort Will Dixon suddenly jumped over the lying bike and leaped at his son – and ran straight into Daryl’s balled fist. The punch hit him square in the face and had the older man go down like a sack of potatoes. He lay on the ground, dazed and limp, but before he could recover a second punch hit him, quickly followed by another one, and another one, and another one.    
All the pain, frustration, anger and hate of years broke free, and screaming at the top of his lungs Daryl hit his father time and again like a maniac. He didn’t really know what he was doing anymore, was totally out of control. All the bottled up emotions this man had evoked in him as long as he could think back had taken over command.   
He didn’t see the blood. Didn’t notice that Will Dixon had stopped moving and lay on the ground like a broken doll. He didn’t hear Caesar Martinez yelling his name and telling him to stop. Only when the Latino wrapped an arm around his neck from behind and held him in a chokehold, reality caught up to him again.

         “Let go!” Daryl struggled against the iron grasp. “Chokehold’s illegal.” 

         “Yeah? So’s beating people to death. And illegal my ass, I ain’t the police. But they gonna be here any minute, so will you stop already?” 

Panting heavily, Daryl lowered his bleeding and hurting fists and stood still suddenly, so Martinez dared letting go. 

         “Dear God, man, what the hell happened here? Who is this?” 

         “Nobody.”

Caesar cast him a stern glance, while he crouched down next to Will Dixon and checked for vital signs. Sirens could be heard in the distance and there were people lurking at their windows or stood in safe distance and stared their way. 

         “He’s still alive”, Martinez said, while he pulled out his cell. “I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

         “Nah”, Daryl stared at the bleeding, unconscious form on the ground. “Just let him die. He deserves ta die.”

The Latino stood and drew conspiratorially close, whispering: 

         “Now you listen to me. I don’t care who this is or what the story here is, but I care about _you_ , man. Killing someone ain’t you and if you just let that man die, it’s murder.”

         “Nah, ‘s justice.”

         “Yeah, tell that to the cops who’re gonna show up here any second.”

         “D’ya call ‘em?” Daryl said darkly, while he cast his boss a glare.

         “No. I just came back because I forgot my wallet. Take a look around, Daryl. About a dozen people watched you beat the crap out of this dude and they will testify that you didn’t even stop when he had long since stopped moving. You know what that looks like?”

Daryl lifted his eyes off of his father and looked around. His heart sank instantly.   
Martinez was right. Neighbors, people who had seen him working in this place for months now, who had greeted him friendly in the morning when he came and waved good-bye when he left in the evening – they were staring at him now as though he was a monster.    
He was back to square one. After all this time, after working so hard to shed _Terminus_ and do better than all the Dixons before him, so he’d finally _be_ someone, he had lost people’s trust and respect in only few minutes.    
The suspicious glances were back, the prejudiced eyes, the contemptuous airs and whispers behind his back. _Just a Dixon._   
Although it was his father lying on the ground, Daryl was the victim here. He’d always be a victim. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, apparently _Terminus_ would always be a part of him. 

A squad car sped around the corner and came to a halt with squealing wheels. The two officers inside opened the doors cautiously and, with their hands resting on the butt of their guns, got out.

         “Lemme see your hands!” the driver, a brunette woman in her early 30’s, called to Daryl.

         “He’s got no gun”, Martinez called over to her, while Daryl raised his hands and turned around to the police car as pale as a ghost.”

         “I’m talking to you, too, mister!” she addressed the Latino and with a snort Martinez raised his hands, too.

         “Gotta be kidding me”, he muttered. “Soon as you’re not white, you best walk around with your hands raised permanently.

Daryl cast him a meaningful look.

         “Soon as yer not white or a Dixon”, he corrected, while he watched the young woman approach them.

When she was only few steps away from him, they recognized each other.

         “Daryl?” 

Tara Chambler released the butt of her gun and gave the young man in front of her a scrutiny. He didn’t look like a _‘raging maniac, trying to kill somebody’_ at all, despite several people calling him that when they alerted the police. On the contrary. He stood there like a mere picture of misery, pale, confused and shaken and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him without knowing why.

         “Glenn”, she addressed her partner, a young Asian about her age. “Make sure someone called an ambulance.”

         “You got it”, the man replied and returned to the car to make the call. 

         “Wanna tell me what happened?” Tara asked gently, but Daryl didn’t react. 

She wasn’t sure that he had even heard her. 

Daryl’s thoughts and emotions were in a turmoil and his world was crumbling as he started to realize what he had done.    
He didn’t care about the man he couldn’t even consider his father anymore. And if he died, all the better. But Martinez was right – this was homicide. Would he be sued? Would he lose his job, his home, his family – his freedom? Were they going to send him to jail? Will Dixon made his life hell in the past and was about to destroy his future, too, whether he was dead or alive. The man was a curse, the devil himself and just like _Terminus,_ Daryl would never be able to shed him. 

         “Ambulance is on its way”, Glenn’s call pulled him out of his stupor and he saw Tara look over her shoulder and give an affirmative nod. 

While Officer Glenn Rhee walked up to the bystanders and asked people about what they had witnessed and took down their particulars, Tara addressed Daryl once more.

         “Daryl, please, tell me what happened. Did he attack you?”

         “Pff”, the young man snorted derisively. “Yeah. Never did anythin’ else in all ma life.”

         “So it was self-defense.”

         “If ya say so.” 

She cast a look at the bleeding man on the ground, praying to God that ambulance would be here soon.

         “People say you didn’t stop.” 

Daryl didn’t answer.

         “Daryl, please, why didn’t you stop?”

         “He never stopped, either.”

Martinez took a step closer to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. 

         “Ain’t my concern”, he cut in, “but I think you had better shut up now and only answer questions with a lawyer present.” 

         “Why?” Daryl cast Tara a look. “I’m arrested?”

God, there were days she really hated her job and this was definitely one of them.

         “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

         “What’s the charge?” he croaked out. As if he didn’t know.

She sighed.

         “Attempted homicide, until we know all the details and had a chance to hear the witnesses and … I’m sorry.”

And she was. She had only met that young man once, but there was something about him that had impressed her. He came from a neighborhood that didn’t leave people many options or chances, yet he had made it out of there and had helped to send the remains of Tomas’ gang to jail. He was one of the good guys and she couldn’t believe that what happened here today was _just_ an attempted homicide.    
This wasn’t about money or any other base motive – there was more. A lot more.    
She couldn’t help the feeling that it was not the offender standing in front of her, but the victim. 

With a heavy heart she started reading him his rights, but he didn’t even listen. He had heard them often enough each time the cops had showed up to arrest Merle, so he knew them by heart.

         “Can ya take care a’ ma baby?” Daryl said to Martinez, pointing at his bike, and the Latino nodded with a sad smile. 

When the police car pulled out onto the main drag, an ambulance with wailing sirens passed them by, but Daryl didn’t even pay attention.    
He sat in back of the squad car, frozen to the core and trying not to panic.    
In all the years he had lived as a Dixon in that ghetto he had to call a home, he had never been in trouble with the police. And now, now that he wasn’t a Dixon anymore and had done everything he possibly could to lead the life of a decent and honest man, he had ended up here, in back of a police car, arrested and accused of one of the worst offenses possible. 

         _Rick_

His lover’s name echoed in his mind and took a little of the pain and fear away. Rick’s name had always been his mantra, a prayer, the magic word.   
All the way back to the station Rick was the only thought he allowed – his partner’s name, the sound of his voice, the blue of his eyes, the softness of his lips, the tenderness of his hands. Daryl focused on all these wonderful details and banned every other thought. Rick was his lifeline, so that despair couldn’t pull him under and let him drown in the disaster Will Dixon had brought upon him. 

 

*******

 

When Jim Grimes received a call from the local police station, he almost dropped his cell when he heard what happened. 

         “I’ll be right there”, he just said before he disconnected.

He told his secretary to cancel all appointments and then almost ran out to the parking lot, fumbling for the car keys even before he had reached his SUV.    
Jim was thankful for the fact that he’d been at the office when the call had come in. Not just because it was much shorter a drive to the station from here, but also because that way Catherine didn’t know just yet. It would be hard enough telling her the bad news and he needed to know all the details first. 

He wasn’t even surprised when he was led straight to Morgan Jones’ office the moment he arrived.    
Back when Hershel had asked the man for _a favor_ in return for saving his dog, the chief had only been too willing to send three squad cars to _Terminus_ as an escort for Jim Grimes, while the lawyer had to _discuss_ a personal matter with a certain Will Dixon.    
_ Dixon.  _ Morgan knew that name and he knew that family, especially Will and Merle Dixon, and the asked favor had set alarm bells off in the back of his head. But Hershel assuring him that the matter concerned the youngest child of the family, Daryl, and was in no way illegal, had silenced the alarm bells.    
Now he heard them again, loud and clear, and he only hoped it wasn’t knells he was hearing, ringing as his career was laid to rest.

When Jim Grimes appeared in the doorway, Daryl looked up with a mixture of relief and shame, before the latter got the better of him. He lowered his eyes, unable to hold the man’s gaze.    
Morgan Jones, a tall black man in his 50’s, stood and walked around his desk to shake the lawyer’s hand and close the door behind him. 

         “Please”, he said, “have a seat.”

Even before he complied, Jim asked:

         “What are the charges against my son? What happened?” 

         “I’ll get to that in a minute. But let me ask you something first – did you know that Will Dixon is back in town?” 

The way Jim sucked in the air audibly answered the question, even before the man shook his head.

         “I had no idea. He signed a contract back then that included moving to another state and …”  
          
         “Was that a court order?” 

Jim pressed his lips together. 

         “No, that was a personal contract between his family and mine, but I did obtain a restraining order against him and that man is not to come near any member of my family, our home or work places. Are you gonna tell me what happened now?”

The chief’s expression darkened as he cast a glance at Daryl. 

         “I’d like to tell you, but so far your son wasn’t willing to give us any information without his lawyer present.”

Jim’s eyes widened.

         “Why does he need a lawyer? Did you arrest him?”

         “We did. I’m afraid your son is charged with attempted homicide, Mr. Grimes.” 

It was deadly quiet in the office for a moment, while Jim tried to digest what he had just heard. 

         “Excuse me”, he said in a hoarse voice, “did you say _homicide_?”

         “No, I said _attempted_ homicide. Currently the victim is in the hospital.”

         “Ain’t no victim”, Daryl grumbled. “He attacked me first.” 

Morgan leaned over his desk and gave a tap to the table top to have Daryl look at him. 

         “So, what you’re saying is, that it was self-defense?” 

         “What I’m sayin’ is, that I didn’t start it – I just ended it.”

Jim and Morgan exchanged a look and a cold feeling settled in the pit of the lawyer’s stomach.   
This sounded familiar. He was instantly reminded of the day his sons had come home from school years back, after they had ended another confrontation they hadn’t started, either. He had encouraged them back then.   
          
_“I’d prefer a verbal solution, too, but sometimes it requires a_ clearer _language.”_

That’s what he had said and he had meant it, too. But there was a difference between a harmless fight among boys and attempted homicide. 

         “Daryl”, he said to his son and reluctantly the narrow blue eyes turned his way.   
“Please, you’ve got to tell us what happened.”

         “Would you like to speak with your client in private?” chief Jones asked, but Daryl snapped instantly:

         “I ain’t his client, I’m his son. And I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Didn’t mean ta kill that bastard, but if he dies, ya should be glad he’s gone. He’s done the same to me – ‘n’ more. He deserves no better.”

         “So this was revenge, not self-defense?” Morgan said, but before Jim could cut in, Daryl replied.

         “Call is whatever ya want. Ain’t changin’ the fact that he was there although he wasn’t supposed ta ever come back. He attacked me, threatened me, threatened ma family, said things ‘bout ma partner.”  
He turned to Jim with blazing eyes.  
         “Ain’t no one ever gonna call Rick names, dad.”

Jim breathed in deep with a raspy sensation in the back of his throat. He turned to the young man and placed his hands on Daryl’s shoulders.

         “You need to tell us what happened. It was an accident, right?”

         “Dunno. Can’t remember.”

         “Witnesses say he was beating on Will Dixon even when the man was on the ground and not moving anymore.” 

Tears were pooling in Daryl’s eyes suddenly and he looked pleadingly at Jim.

         “I can’t remember, honestly. It just … happened. Couldn’t think no more, just felt … All he’s done, all the pain …”

         “Shh”, the lawyer soothed. “It’s gonna be alright, Daryl.”

         “Mr. Grimes”, the chief cut in with a stern inflection, “when I agreed to that _favor_ back then, you and Doctor Greene promised me that I won’t be sorry. Well, I _am_ sorry. Whatever happened back then, whatever the deal was, whatever the story is here, I’ve got the feeling it’s gonna backfire. And when it does, it’s not just gonna be _my_ head on the block, I can assure you of that. Now, I wanna hear it all. Right now. What the heck is going on here?”

It was quiet for a moment, then Jim stood up slowly and held his hand out to Daryl.  
The younger man looked up to him questioningly, but allowed his father to pull him up. 

         “Take off your shirt”, he asked gently and instantly all color seemed to drain off Daryl’s face.  

         “Nah. Please …”

         “Sometimes people need to _see_ to be able to understand, Daryl.” 

For a moment the archer stood totally frozen, then he hesitatingly started opening the black button-down shirt he was wearing and let it slide off his shoulders. Trembling and breathing fitfully he turned around and let the chief of police see his scars.   
He heard the gasp behind him and bit back new tears that threatened to flood his eyes.  
Morgan Jones stared at the young man’s back and felt bile rise in his throat.   
There wasn’t a spot of skin unmarred and it was a bizarre map of streaks and welts and burn marks that spoke of years of abuse. 

         “All his life”, Jim just said in a voice choked with emotions. “Barely a day he wasn’t beaten, humiliated and insulted. We found him half-dead after his father had badly beaten him back then.”

He gently touched Daryl’s shoulder to tell his son silently to put his shirt back on, before he added:

         “I made a deal with Will Dixon – one that included him staying away from Daryl forever. He’s my son now. But …”

         “What kind of _deal_ are we talking about here?” the chief asked after clearing his voice and composing himself. “A restraining order cannot ban a person from an entire state.”

Jim hesitated, but Daryl answered for him.

         “He got money in return for his signature on some papers that allowed Jim ‘n’ Cathy ta become ma legal guardians. And it included the promise ta get lost ‘n’ never come back.”

The lawyer’s eyes widened.

         “You knew about the money?” he said, swallowing against a lump in his throat.

         “Yeah, knew right from the start that the old fart sold me.” 

         “Oh, my God”, Morgan muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.  
           
         “Chief Jones”, Jim said pleadingly, “my son is not dangerous. Will Dixon is. Whatever happened … it _was_ self-defense.”

The black man looked at Jim and held his gaze for an incredibly long moment. Then his dark eyes moved over to Daryl and did the same there, until the young man started to squirm uncomfortably.

         “Tell you what”, the chief said after what felt like an eternity. “If Daryl’s father ..”

         “Told ya he ain’t ma father no more”, Daryl cut in with a growl.

         “Fine, if Will Dixon survives and doesn’t press charges, this conversation has never taken place.”   
For a second he looked as though he couldn’t believe that he had said that.   
         “If he does though … I’m sorry, but then I won’t be able to do any more for you. Then it’s gonna go to court, I’m afraid.”

He turned to Jim.

         “I’m letting him go now, but he is your responsibility.”

That said he looked at Daryl once again.  
          
         “Don’t get us into hot water, son.”

The moment Jim and Daryl had left his office and the door had closed behind them, Morgan pinched his nose again and shook his head. He loved his job, usually, but there were days he couldn’t wait for his retirement.

         “I’m getting too old for this shit”, he muttered under his breath, while he tried to ban the picture of Daryl Dixon’s back from his mind. 


	25. Chapter 25

Will Dixon survived and was released from hospital a few weeks later.    
He had lost a couple of teeth and the hearing of his left ear had been affected, but other than that the doctors had assured him that he would probably make a full recovery.   
The police had been his only visitors during the time he was in the hospital – not that he had expected anyone else. No one would ever bring him flowers – not to a sick bed visit and not for his funeral, either. But the latter would have to wait. He had matters to settle first.    
They had asked him, if he wanted to press charges against his son and it had taken him all of his willpower not to spit in the officers’ faces. Press charges? A Dixon pressing charges and letting the pigs handle his affairs instead of taking matters into his own hands was a thing unheard of. And he had let them know in his very own polite and eloquent way.

         “Day a Dixon presses charges against his own blood, his dick shall fall off. And now get lost.”

This wasn’t over yet. It had only just begun. 

Funny enough, Will wasn’t even angry with Daryl for almost killing him – on the contrary. In a weird way he was proud of him. For the first time, ever since that milestone around Will’s neck had made his first cry, Daryl had acted like a real Dixon, had grown some damn balls and stood up to him. Finally, after more than twenty years, that pansy had turned into a man. It was almost a pity that Will couldn’t let that shit pass without teaching the boy a lesson. And any son of his, who was wearing high heels and sucked dicks, didn’t have a prayer.    
But he had to be careful. They knew he was back now, no doubt expected him to try anything and that rich family Daryl was living with probably had friends in high places.    
         Will Dixon didn’t have friends in high places. He had no friends at all. But he had time, and patience. And his time would come. 

A nightmare started for Daryl.    
The day Will was released from the hospital, he showed up in the street where Martinez ran his business. He didn’t do a thing, said no word, made no gesture and stayed within the distance the restraining order instructed him to. He was just _there_ , but he made sure Daryl saw him.   
Henceforward Daryl saw him every single day, everywhere he went, no matter the hour.    
Whether he was at work, went to town to run some errands or looked out of his bedroom window at night – Will Dixon was there. Silent, unmoving, staring.   
As soon as he was sure Daryl had seen him, he would disappear, so it was futile to call the cops – when they arrived Will was long gone, only to make a reappearance some place else later the same day.   
How he got around or always knew where his son was, Daryl didn’t know. And he didn’t care, either. He just wanted it to stop.   
In only few weeks he became a nervous wreck. He couldn’t sleep anymore, lost his appetite and couldn’t shed that eerie, tickling sensation in the back of his neck that made him look over his shoulder a gazillion times a day. He felt threatened without being able to do anything about it.    
The older Dixon ranting, yelling, beating him – that was predictable, something he could deal with, a threat he could put his finger on. But _this_ was like being haunted by a ghost. Nobody was able to help him, because there was no law against standing and staring, and whenever he addressed someone, asking them if they saw _the man over there,_ Will had disappeared the second Daryl hadn’t been watching.    
After a while the archer thought he was losing his mind. 

         “This is stalking!” Catherine ranted, slamming the dishtowel she had used onto the breakfast counter. “We should go to the police.”

It was mid June now and over the course of the past six weeks she had watched her vivid, happy elder son turn into a pale, frightened nervous wreck. He would flinch whenever the draft slammed a door shut or someone had managed to draw near unnoticed. He had stopped laughing or even smiling, barely ate anymore and the dark rings underneath his eyes indicated that he didn’t sleep, either.    
Jim and Catherine felt helpless and that left them frustrated and furious. Same as Rick.    
The moment he had heard what happened, he had returned from UPenn and was driving back and forth between Philly and New Hope now on an almost daily basis. But no matter how close he stayed to his partner, how tight he held him at night, his presence wasn’t able to help Daryl. On the contrary.    
Rick being by his side made him a target, too, and Daryl feared for Rick far more than he feared for himself. One of these days Will Dixon may figure out that hurting _Rick_ instead of Daryl was the only thing that would bring his son to his knees, would devastate him entirely and for good.   
Daryl had asked, _begged_ Rick to stay down in Philly, but summer vacation was going to start soon and then his partner would be home for months.    
Daryl couldn’t even fly into the woods anymore. It was too much of a risk. Since Will was following his son wherever he went, he might have followed him there, too. There was no telling what that man was up to, what he intended, what he had planned. But whatever it was, in the woods Daryl would be on his own. No one would be able to help him there, there was no cell service to alert the police, no one else knew their way around in there, not even Rick.    
If Will managed to lure him into a trap, he didn’t have a prayer anymore. And he knew that man was furious enough by now to use all of his evil, criminal energy to make his son’s passing as slow and painful as only possible. Which was why Rick wasn’t going to set a foot into the woods anymore, either.    
Their sanctuary was lost to them and as long as Will Dixon was around, they weren’t able to see their lake or the cave ever again.    
_ As long as Will Dixon was around _ … The man was in his 40’s – it would be decades before he died. _Decades!_ Just the thought of having to bear his presence another _day_ drove Daryl insane.

         “It’s senseless to go to the police, Cath”, Jim replied with a frustrated snort. “They _know_ and we already have a restraining order, but that man isn’t breaking the law.”

         “So we’re gonna wait until he does? Until he hurts our boys or us or does whatever the hell he’s planning in his sick mind?” 

         “Unless you’re gonna shoot him”, Jim said sarcastically, before pulling in a deep breath. “Don’t quote me on this, Cathy, but sometimes I wish you had back then.”

         “Yeah”, she replied, “me too.” 

*****

 

With a frustrated whimper Daryl rolled off of his partner and curled into a ball by Rick’s side, turning away from him.

         “Sorry. I can’t. Ain’t yer fault.”

         “It’s not your fault, either”, Rick said gently, while he spooned up behind Daryl and wrapped his arm around him. 

He planted tender kisses on the older man’s shoulder and neck, while his hand ran soothing circles on Daryl’s bare chest and stomach.

         “I love you”, he whispered to him. 

Daryl drew a shuddering breath and curled in on himself even more.

         “How much longer?” he asked in a shaky voice. “Can’t do a thing anymore ‘n’ I’m a mess. I’m scared ta leave the house, scared ta go into the woods or any other place, scared a’ ma own shadow. ‘m makin’ more mistakes at work than Martinez is gonna tolerate in the long run ‘n’ now I can’t even make love to ya no more.”   
A tear ran down his cheek.   
         “He’s destroyin’ it all, Rick, without doin’ a thing. In all a’ ‘em years he ain’t been able ta break me, but now he’s gettin’ there.” 

         “No, he’s not. We won’t let him win. Scaring you is what he wants, so don’t let him. Next time you see him, grin in his face and wave to him, show him the finger – whatever.”

         “For how long?”

         “Right. How long d’you think he’s gonna be able to keep this up? Must be tiring to follow someone day and night as much as being followed is. I mean, he’s gotta sleep and eat, too. Where does he live?”

Daryl sighed and snuggled up against his lover’s chest.

         “ _Terminus,_ what did you think? Met Miranda at _Acme’s_ the other day ‘n’ she said he move into one a’ the deserted old trailers.”   
His voice grew darker as new anger boiled up.   
         “He threatened the families with smaller children, the bastard. Told ‘em, if their li’l ones wasn’t supposed ta have any accidents, they’d better make sure there was enough food ‘n’ booze in his rusty tin can.”

Rick furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his curls.

         “There’s no limits as to what that man would do, right?”

         “Nah.”

         “We gotta do something.”

         “Yeah, like what? Ya wanna go ta jail ‘cause a’ that scum? Nothin’, ‘cept killin’ him, is ever gonna stop him ‘n’ much that I’d love ta do it, I had other plans for the rest a’ ma life.”

         “Yeah?”    
Rick leaned over him and resumed kissing his way over Daryl’s shoulder and neck.    
         “Tell me about your plans”, he whispered into his lover’s ear, before he started nibbling on the earlobe.

Daryl moaned softly and turned around to look the other man in the eyes. He placed a hand in the back of Rick’s neck and played with the curls at the nape for a moment.

         “That sure’s part a’ the plan.”

         “Playing with my curls?”

         “Yup.” 

He pulled the head forward and kissed the younger man ardently, deepening the kiss the moment their lips met. In between their hungry gasps he murmured:

         “That, too.”

Never breaking the contact he pushed himself up and turned them around. Lying half on top of his lover, he started running his hand over the other man’s body, starting with Rick’s face, then down his neck and over his chest, where his fingers caressed one of the nipples till Rick arched his back with a moan.   
          
         “Part a’ the plan, too”, Daryl whispered, before he planted more kisses on Rick’s already kiss-swollen lips. 

They were both hard before Daryl’s hand had made its way down Rick’s stomach and came to rest on his throbbing dick. The moment his fingers closed around it, Rick reflexively thrusted his hip up and almost bit Daryl’s lip.

         “Sorry”, he gasp. “More. Please.”

Daryl smiled, pleased to see he was giving his lover pleasure without doing all that much. 

He started to move his hand on Rick’s dick, all the while kissing the younger man’s mouth and face and neck, when after only few strokes he felt a warm and wet sensation on his fingers, accompanied by Rick’s throaty moan.

         “Damn. God. Jeez”, Rick stammered while he was still pulsing out a mess. 

As soon as his orgasm wore off, he looked sheepishly at his partner, while his ears turned a deep shade of red.

         “Sorry. That … that …”

         “That sure _ain’t_ part a’ the plan”, Daryl chided in mock annoyance, suppressing a smile.

Rick reached up and ran his fingers tenderly through Daryl’s hair.

         “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

         “Yeah? Yer all mouth, Grimes, ya know that?”    
An evil glow came to his eyes.   
         “Speakin’ of mouth … Why don’t ya make some _good_ use of it for a change?”

The younger man suppressed a grin.

         “That part of the plan?”

         “Ya bet it is.” 

         “In that case …”

Laughing, Rick pecked Daryl lips, before he turned them back around and started kissing his way down his partner’s body to return the favor.

At least for a while he was able to drive the fear away and make Daryl feel good, but he knew it wouldn’t last. No matter how passionate or tender he made love to his partner, no matter how many times he kissed him and told him how much he loved him, Will Dixon would come between them again and bring the fear and worries back. 

He felt just as helpless as he had felt back then, when Daryl was _just_ a friend and he had wanted to free him of his violent father. Nothing had changed, save for the fact that Daryl was way more than a friend to him now.    
But just like back then their hands were tied and they were the slaves of this man’s malice. It would never end, unless they ended it – or somebody else did. 

 

*******  
         

_ “As police spokesman, Spencer Monroe, told us earlier today, the victim was identified as a certain William M. Dixon, resident of the  _ Terminus _trailer park_. _Mister Dixon, who was well-known to the police due to various reports of domestic abuse, harassment and assault, was found dead in his trailer last night._   
_ Mister Monroe said, and I quote: This is one of the most unique homicides police of this county ever had to investigate, since the victim apparently has been slain with a baseball bat, wrapped with barbed-wire. End of quote.  _  
_          A murder suspect, widely known as Negan, was meanwhile taken into custody. He, too, is known to the police and neighbors described him as cunning, yet violent and ruthless. Despite claiming to be innocent and having been framed, the murder weapon was identified as the suspect’s property and allegedly the only fingerprints found on it so far, are his. _  
_ The victim is survived by two sons, who were not available for an interview before this message block.  _  
_ We will keep you informed on further investigations. _  
_ This is Rosita Espinosa for Channel 6 News. _  
_ Good night.” _

 

Jim Grimes turned the TV off and leaned back. 

         “Rrrrrrosita”, he repeated, trying to imitate the newscaster’s Spanish accent.    
“She’s pretty, huh?” he slipped.

When he looked up, he found his wife glaring at him with raised eyebrows.

         “What?” he tried to defend himself. “I just said she was pretty. Shoot me.”

         “Don’t tempt me”, she replied. “You start drooling each time she’s on.”

         “I do not”, he protested, casting his sons a look in the hope for support, when he saw them nod and shrug their shoulders.

         “She’s right”, Rick commented dryly.

Jim pulled a face.

         “Thank you so much. All I said was … ah, come on, boys, she _is_ pretty, right?”

His sons’ eyebrows went up, too, when they looked at the man in a _you’re-asking-the-wrong-team_ kind of way.

         “Okay, I get it – you’re not the experts. But just because you’re playing on the other team, doesn’t mean you cannot tell if a girl’s pretty or not. Hey, I can tell if a guy is good-looking or not.”   
The more he spoke, the more the noose tightened around his neck.   
         “Jared Leto! Come on, you gotta agree with me here. He’s gotta be your type. I mean, er, with _those_ blue eyes and all and him being a guy … I think.”

Three pairs of eyebrows had reached the hairlines by now and Jim noticed that his attempt to change the subject from female beauty to beautiful people in general had failed majorly. 

         “Ah, forget it.” He got up. “I’ll get a beer. Anyone?” He walked over to the kitchen. “Or are you all rather having _mimosas_ ”, he teased.

A second later he laughed out loud when three sofa cushions hit him from behind. 

Daryl scooted down where he was sitting on the sofa next to Rick and leaned his head against the younger man’s shoulder.    
For a moment he stared at the TV screen, although it was black now. Then he said thoughtfully:

         “Still can’t believe he’s dead.”

He had been at the morgue that afternoon to identify the man who used to be his father, and it had taken all of his willpower to not laugh out loud and cheer when it was indeed Will Dixon. 

         “’twas just too good ta be true seein’ him on that table in the morgue with his ugly mug bashed in. Felt _unreal._ Somehow I’s waitin’ all that time that he’d get up again.”

Rick broke out laughing.

         “You _did_ watch that _zombie crap_ , admit it!” 

         “Maybe. Just never understood why they stab or shoot the zombies in the head. Can’t be more dead than dead, right?”

         “Right, but there’s _less_ dead than dead.”

         “What?”

         “They’re still moving after all, right? So you need to kill the brain.”

Daryl rolled his eyes.

         “Jeez, yer a damn expert now?”

         “Sneer all you want, but if the dead start walking, you’ll be happy to have someone by your side who knows how to put them down.”

         “Ma hero.”    
He was lost in his thoughts for another moment, then he added:   
“Explains why the ol’ fart didn’t get up again. He ain’t got no brain. Got no heart, either. In a way he’s dead all his life.” 

Before Rick could answer, the door bell rang. Jim went to answer it and a moment later he reappeared in the living room, accompanied by Officer Tara Chambler and her partner Glenn Rhee. 

         “Good afternoon”, Tara greeted friendly, her eyes moving from Catherine to Rick and Daryl, who had all gotten up the moment she had entered the room.   
         “We hate to disturb, but we’re investigating the murder of Will Dixon and need to ask a few questions.”

         “Of course”, Catherine said friendly. “Have a seat. Can we get you anything to drink?”

         “No, thank you, ma’am”, Officer Rhee answered for both of them. “This will only take a minute.”

That sounded familiar. 

The two police officers opted to remain standing, while the four Grimes took their seats again. There was a moment of silence, then Tara looked at Daryl and asked hesitatingly:

         “Mr. Dixon …”  
          
         “Told ya before not ta call me that”, Daryl grumbled. “’s Daryl.”

         “I’m sorry. Daryl, do you know of any reason why someone would want to kill Will Dixon?”

The young man gave a choked sound as though he was suppressing a derisive laugh.

         “Just a random list or alphabetical?” he asked sarcastically.  

         “Excuse me?”

         “C’mon, even the news chick on TV knows that the ol’ bastard had a record a mile long. Is abuse, harassment ‘n’ assault reasons enough? He was a fuckin’ sonuvabitch, who never did a single good thing in all his life. Does that answer the question?” 

         “I suppose”, she said with raised eyebrows. “Was there anyone who would have wanted to kill him?”

         “Anyone who ever met him”, Daryl spat, ignoring the warning glance Jim Grimes cast him.

Tara sighed. She wished he hadn’t said that. Turning a page in her notebook, she pulled in a deep breath and asked hesitatingly:

         “We need to ask you where you were yesterday between six p.m. and midnight.”

Four pairs of eyes widened.

         “Are you accusing my son now of having anything to do with Will Dixon’s murder?” Jim flared up.

         “Thought you had the guy who did it”, Rick added.

         “We took a suspect into custody”, Glenn explained, “but we still need to eliminate the possibility of anyone else …”

         “I’s here”, Daryl cut in, looking at the officers with narrowed eyes. 

         “All evening?”

         “All _day._ From dawn till dusk ‘n’ most definitely till midnight.”

His anger was palpable. Apparently the problems Will Dixon caused him never ended. Even in his death that man haunted him.

         “Are there any witnesses to confirm this?” Tara ask, visibly not happy having to ask questions like this. 

         “Well”, Catherine said a tinge snappish, “only my husband, our son Rick and me, as well as thirty of our neighbors, doctor Hershel Greene and the Morales family from _Terminus._ It was the 4th of July, officers.”

         “We are aware of that, ma’am”, Glenn said kind of meekly, “but we have to ask these questions.”

         “And now we did”, Tara said in a happy inflection, closing her notebook. “I guess we’ve got all the information we need. Thank you for your time.”

         “I’ll see you out”, Jim offered friendly and lead the two officers to the door. 

While they were headed down the hallway, Tara commented to her partner:  
          
         “Wish it was that easy all the time. We got round about forty alibis with only one question.”

She couldn’t help a giggle and a moment later the front door closed behind them.    
In the living room, Rick looked deep into his partner’s eyes and said with a loving smile:

         “That’s it. Will, Tomas, Negan – they are all gone. You’re free.”

Daryl leaned his forehead against Rick’s and let his breath out with a relieved sigh.

         “Did you realize that the ol’ bastard died on July 4th? Pretty symbolic, huh?” 

         “Yeah”, Rick whispered to him, “happy Independence Day.”

 

A month later the trial against Negan for the murder of Will Dixon started and it was a clear case as far as the judge, jury, media and public opinion was concerned.    
His baseball bat was the murder weapon, his fingerprints had been the only ones on it, he had the means and the motive and was evaluated “smart, yet unscrupulous” by two independent psychiatrists.    
Although he never stopped claiming to be innocent and having been framed, Negan was judged guilty and sent to prison for the rest of his days. 

One day after the verdict was reported on Channel 6 by Rrrrrrosita Espinosa, Daryl found a postcard in the mailbox with the evil smile emoji on the front, simply signed _M._


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very reluctant to post this chapter. :-) I don't want it to end, because I'm so gonna miss all you wonderful peeps. But after this rollercoaster ride you earned yourselves a reward - so here it comes. The ride into the sunset. :-) Enjoy.

_ Five years later _

         “Jim!” Catherine’s voice sounded through the house. “They are here!”

She hurried to the front door and pulled it open even before the car had come to a halt in the driveway and Rick had turned the motor off.   
With widely spread arms the blonde woman almost flew through the front yard towards her sons, who had just gotten out of the car and approached her with wide smiles.   
Jim appeared in the front door right in time to see his wife run straight past Rick without even giving him a second glance, only to stop in front of Daryl the next moment.

         “Where’s my little girl?” she cooed and, ignoring her other son as well, took the six-month-old baby girl he’d been holding out of his arms.   
         “There she is.” Catherine placed a smooch on the baby’s chubby cheek. “Hi, Judy. How are you, sweetheart?”

Rick rolled his eyes and cast his partner a look.

         “Can you see me or am I invisible today?” 

Daryl just stared at him with a perfect deadpan, looking right through him while he suppressed a grin.

         “Jackass”, Rick said in mock annoyance, while Daryl started to chuckle.

         “Richard Grimes!” Catherine chided. “I don’t want that kind of language around my granddaughter.” 

         “Thank God, at least I’m not inaudible, too.”   
Rick walked up to his mother and placed a loving kiss on her cheek.    
         “Hi, mom.”

         “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” 

She moved the little girl onto her left arm, while she wrapped the other one around her son’s neck and placed a quick kiss on his lips. Then she repeated the same with Daryl, but either man’s attempt to lift their daughter off of Catherine’s arm again ended in their fingers being slapped. 

         “Hands off! You’ve got her all the time – today she’s all mine.” 

She brushed past them and headed back to the house, while Daryl wrapped his arm around Rick’s waist and pulled him along to follow her.

         “Hurry up, man. Now that she's got Jude, she might slam the door in our face. Yer aware a’ that, ain’t ya?” 

Rick laughed out loud.

         “No, she won't. – I’ve got the diaper bag and the bottles.” 

         “Smart move.”

Daryl pinched his side playfully and then let go to greet Jim, who was waiting for them on the front porch. 

         “Good to see you, boys. Did you watch the Phillies’ game last night?”

         “What? No.”

The two young men exchanged a confused look. With a sigh Jim lead the way inside and then closed the door behind them.

         “I was hoping to be able to have an adult conversation about anything else than nap times, diapers, teething and playgroups.”

Rick and Daryl broke out laughing, while Jim pulled a face.

         “Don’t know what’s so funny. All day long that woman is singing lullabies now, knitting tiny little sweaters and trying new recipes for baby pap. And _I_ have to taste them.”

The young men laughed even harder.

         “Ah, cut it out. Why couldn’t you just buy a dog?” Jim sulked, but there was a smile playing around his lips.

They came into the living room, where Catherine had placed Judith on a blanket on the floor and was wiggling a rag doll in front of her nose, making funny sounds to make the little girl laugh.    
The men smiled. It was an endearing picture and the two girls obviously had fun.

         “How’s she doing?” Jim asked softly in order not to disturb the carefree moment, but his wife had heard him and looked up with concern in her eyes.

         “She’s gonna be fine”, Daryl said with a loving glance at the baby, but his voice was thick with emotions. “We got her out in time.” 

He felt Rick’s hand get a hold of his and give a reassuring squeeze. Thankful for the emotional support, the archer leaned into this partner and sighed.   
It had been so many years now since he had left his past behind, but apparently he would never be able to shed all the traumatic experiences entirely. They would always be a part of him.   
That was a curse and a blessing alike, because no one could empathize with children, who had to suffer neglect and abuse, better than someone like Daryl. He had been there, he _knew,_ and he was able to relate to these children's emotions, thoughts and fears like hardly anyone else in the area of New Hope.   
He couldn’t forget. He didn’t _want_ to forget. Which was why he had started volunteer work as a social worker, next to his job at Martinez’s.    
It was time consuming and got to him more often than not, but it was something he _had_ to do. As often as his time would allow it, he visited the families in _Terminus,_ played with the children, listened to their sorrows and fears and was able to be a friend, a confidant, someone they were able to trust, if they couldn’t trust anyone else.    
Daryl was their angel, too. He made them laugh, dried at least some of their tears and once in a while he was even able to work a miracle – was able to talk to the parents and make them understand that their way was wrong, so things in those families improved. He loved doing what he did.   
When he started out, people had asked him why he invested so much time and energy into a job he didn’t even get paid for. And Daryl had told them:

         _“I do get paid. Just not with money.”_

He got smiles and love, laughter, shiny children’s eyes and gratitude. What greater reward was there for a job well done? 

And then, three months ago he saved a life. Judith’s life.    
She was the baby of a drug addicted teenager, who hadn’t even known who the father was. When neighbors called the police to report a strange smell and a whining baby from the trailer next door, they had found the young mother dead for a few days and the baby dehydrated and half starved.    
As though fate had woven an invisible connection between them, Tara Chambler had been the first officer on the scene. And knowing Daryl and his background as well as his tireless work in _Terminus_ , she had called him right away and asked for his assistance. A call he would forever be grateful for.    
That day had changed Judith’s fate, as well as Daryl and Rick’s.    
The first moment Daryl had held the tiny baby in his arms, had looked into those big, innocent blue eyes and had felt the chubby fingers curl around his and hold on as though they never meant to let go again, he knew that this girl would be a part of his life for the rest of his days.    
He had joked, that he never expected to ever fall head over heels for a _girl_ , but the day he had seen Judith for the very first time, he had. 

It still was not easy as a same gender couple to adopt a child, but as soon as the first obstacles were tossed in their way, countless people acted as character witnesses and started sending letters to the CPS to speak in their favor – among them half of the people living in _Hilltop_ as well as _Terminus_ , Dr. Hershel Greene, several teachers of their old school – first of all Carol Peletier, Abraham Ford and Dr. Eugene Porter –, Caesar Martinez, the officers Tara Chambler and Glenn Rhee and, last but not least, chief of police Morgan Jones. 

They never knew whether it was this flood of letters that had the family judge finally decide in their favor, or the fact that Jim and Rick Grimes were both lawyers and knew what they were doing.    
It didn’t matter. The result was all that counted. And the result was, that little Judy was officially Rick and Daryl’s daughter now and would grow up in a loving and caring family.    
She would never know hunger again or neglect. Would go to good but not overprivileged schools, so she would have friends who loved her as she was, not for the clothes she was wearing or the kind of car her fathers drove. She would learn how to track and shoot the crossbow without having to kill. Would ride bikes when she was old enough, if Daryl had his way, and the woods would be her nursery, not some room stuffed with unnecessary technical equipment. She would see the white roebuck, play hide and seek with her dads in the little cave and go for swims in the lake and not any heated, chlorinated pools. She’d snuggle up in their bed during thunderstorms, would grow up in the belief that it was perfectly okay for two people of the same gender to be in love and live together, and the first book she would own would be _The Neverending Story._

But for now she just had to survive Catherine Grimes’ smooch and cuddle attacks and enjoy being spoiled rotten.

         “I think she’s hungry”, the woman announced in that moment.  
          
         “She’s fine”, Rick dared disagree.

         “I know better”, she insisted. “I’ve raised two kids and I know that whining. Where’s her bottles?” 

         “Mom, we fed her before we came here. She’s gonna …”

         “Rick”, Daryl cut in calmly. “Mom asked ya ta hand her a bottle.”

Catherine cast him an appreciative glance.

         “Thank you, honey”, she said, holding out a hand to Rick and wiggling her fingers impatiently.

Shrugging, Rick handed her one of the prepared bottles and watched her pick up the baby to feed her. He pulled his partner to the side and whispered to him:

         “You know that Judy’s gonna throw up, don’t you?”

         “Uh-huh”, Daryl replied with a smile that strangely reminded Rick of the postcard they received after Will Dixon’s death.

Obviously part of his lover would always be a Dixon. A grin spread over Rick’s face. Most definitely the part that came in handy and was the most fun. 

         “Your mother renovated the extra room upstairs”, Jim announced suddenly and had the smirks fade from the young men’s faces.

         “ _The_ room?” Rick asked cautiously and exchanged a concerned look with Daryl when Jim nodded.

That just couldn’t happen. Not after all these years.    
Jeffrey’s pictures were still sitting on the mantelpiece and each year on his birthday they would come together and have a cake and a small celebration to honor the fact that Jeff Grimes had lived, had been part of this world for a while.   
But Catherine had long since stopped going into that extra room to light candles and talk to her late son and it had remained just the way it was in all that time.   
Why now? What on Earth had happened? 

         “Gotcha!” Jim said with a grin when he saw his sons’ concerned glances. “Not what you’re thinking – she furnished a nursery for Judy in there. In a sickening … er, adorable pink with lots of unicorns and rainbows and butterflies …”

         “Man, I hope yer kiddin’ _now_ ”, Daryl growled, cringing at the thought of that cotton candy disaster upstairs. 

His father smiled and gave his shoulder a light pat.

         “Go see for yourself.”

In that second Catherine shrieked when Judith threw up as predicted and spit the contents of the bottle all over grandma’s new blouse.

         “Guess she wasn’t hungry after all”, Rick commented dryly, visibly suppressing a smirk. 

         “Why don’t you two go take a look at the nursery, while I give your mother a hand?” Jim said in an urging inflection and pushed the young men towards the door. 

This could go either way now – either Catherine was going to laugh about the incident or she would cut the boys off her will. Jim thought as soon as women became mothers, they were even more unpredictable than before, but as grandmothers they were a nightmare. And yet sexy as hell.    
Seeing her with the baby in her arms, despite being covered in puke, turned him on without even knowing why. He wondered if women felt the same way when it was the other way round.

Dreading the worst, Daryl walked down the upstairs corridor and headed for the extra room at its end. Pink. Rainbows! Unicorns!! Dear God. How was he going to make Catherine understand that Judith was a little girl, not _My Little Pony._   
Rick was following on his heels, suppressing a laugh. No doubt, if that room looked the way Jim had described, Daryl’s reaction to it would be exactly like Judy’s to the extra bottle.    
When they came by the doors of their old rooms, they both stopped and cast each other a glance.   
This wasn’t their home anymore. They moved out two years ago and got their own cozy little condo on the outskirts of New Hope, but there were a lot of memories attached to these two rooms.    
They didn’t have to open the doors to know what they looked like these days, because they remembered every picture, every piece of furniture, every book on the shelves. And Catherine had made sure they were left untouched and exactly the way they had left them behind, as though she was hoping for her sons to move back in one day.    
Letting go was still the hardest part for her. One day, in her own time, she would come to terms with the fact that her boys were grown-up men now and leading their own lives, but until then she liked going into their rooms now and then, the way she had gone to Jeff’s room before, and imagine they were still here. 

         “Ready?” Rick asked, when they stood in front of the nursery.   
          
         “Nah, but let’s get this over with.” 

He pushed the door open determinedly and, bracing himself, took a step inside. His eyes widened two sizes instantly when he looked around.

         “Oh. My. God.” 

Dreading the worst, Rick followed him and felt his mouth gape open, right before a wide smile spread over his handsome face. Daryl turned around to him with tears in his eyes that he tried to swallow down with little success.

         “This … “ he whispered in awe, “’s fuckin’ … _beautiful.”_

There wasn’t a single pink thing in the entire room. All the walls were covered with a photographic wallpaper that showed a forest with golden sunrays falling through the leaves and bathing the scenery in a magical twilight. An artificial tree sat in one corner and Catherine had wrapped fairy lights around the trunk and branches. She had covered the entire ceiling with phosphorescent stars that gave the illusion of a starry night sky and placed lots of fluffy pillows underneath the tree to lie or sit on, read a book to Judith, cuddle or just enjoy looking up into the illuminated branches and stars. Over the crib to one side of the room hung a mobile that showed various creatures of the woods, such as squirrels, a fox, an owl and bunnies.  

Rick wrapped his arms around his partner from behind and placed a loving kiss on the side of his head. 

         “Guess you owe her an apology, huh?” 

         “So do you.”  
         

When they came back down, Catherine had changed into a fresh blouse and was preparing tea, while she graciously let her husband hold little Judith for a while.    
She cast an expectant look at her sons, eager to see their reaction to the new nursery, and smiled widely when Daryl just walked up to her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

         “Thank you”, he breathed, audibly overwhelmed. 

         “I’m glad you like it, honey.”   
          
         “Love it”, he corrected. Then he pulled back and, placing a kiss on her cheek, added: “Love ya, too, mom.” 

Her smile widened, while she gently pushed a strand of the still too long bangs out of his face.  
          
         “Love you, too.” 

         “Hey, Cath”, Jim said from across the room, “I love you, too, by the way.” There was a teasing tinge to his inflection. “And you, Rick.”

         “Yup, love you, too, dad”, Rick played along, suppressing a smile. “And mom and Daryl and Judith.” 

Daryl was grateful that the somewhat awkward sappiness of before had turned into a round of teasing and so he ask Catherine:

         “D’ya love Rick, too?”  
          
         “Sure. I love Rick, too. And Jim.”  
          
         “Judith, too?”

         “Absolutely.”

         “Judy loves ya, too, ya know. And Rick. And Jim ‘n’ her new nursery.” 

         “Screw the Waltons”, Jim grinned. “There’s nothing like the Grimes family. But I’m not wearing any stupid bib overalls.”

They all broke out laughing, even little Judith gave a happy gurgling sound. 

 

         “So, babysitter service is available till tomorrow night”, Jim said to Rick and Daryl when Judith was taking a nap after lunch.   
         “You guys have any plans for your day off?”

         “Oh yes”, Catherine cut in, “are you going down to Philly? See a movie maybe or go to the museum, a concert, shopping or something like that?”

         “Yes, mom”, Rick said with a side glance to Daryl, smiling to himself, “something like that.” 

They headed to the front door and, standing out on the porch, Daryl turned back around to their parents and said:

         “Thanks for taking care of Jude. We appreciate it.”

         “No”, Jim said, “we appreciate you leaving the little munchkin with us. This is like Christmas and Thanksgiving on the same day for your mother.”

         “But without all the cooking and cleaning”, Catherine tossed in, slapping her husband’s arm lightly. “Have fun, boys.” 

         “We will. Thanks.”

Shoulder to shoulder the two young men walked down the steps, when Jim’s voice stopped them.

         “By the way – happy anniversary.”

With a wide smile spreading over their faces, Rick and Daryl peeked at the identical rings on their fingers, before they looked each other deep in the eyes. 

         _“Happy anniversary.”_

 

When the front door had fallen shut and Catherine and Jim had disappeared back into the house, Rick turned to Daryl with a smile and asked:

         “So, what’s it gonna be? Movie, museum, shopping, another ride on your bike – or _something_?”

         “Ya shouldn’t ‘ve brought the bike up, man, but ya know … what ya said goes. – So _somethin’_.”  
          
         “I had a feeling you’d say that.” 

         “Yeah?” Daryl replied teasingly. “Where d’ya have that feelin’?” 

Rick chuckled, before he leaned in and answered:

         “Show you the spot later, okay?”   
          
         “Deal.” 

Together they started walking down the driveway and past their car, down the street and through the gate of _Hilltop,_ headed straight for _their_ woods.    
They walked across the meadows hand in hand and felt their hearts grow lighter with every step they took. They were going to see their lake again today – the place they had met years ago, where they had made love for the first time and repeated their wedding vows to each other, just the two of them, with the old boat as their only witness.    
They would visit the white roebuck, maybe gather some beechnuts and go for a swim. And tonight they were going to sleep snuggled up in the cave after they had made love and thanked the good Lord once again for Rick getting lost in the woods.

When they reached the first row of trees, Rick pulled Daryl close and said:

         “Best idea you ever had was leaving me those breadcrumbs back then.”

         “Best idea ya ever had was followin’ ‘em.” 

Smiling, they kissed each other tenderly. And then they went fishing. 

 

\- The end - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. I hope you liked it!!!  
> If you did, _please_ hit the kudos button or/and take just a short moment to drop me a line. Any kind of feedback is more than welcome and highly appreciated.
> 
> It's been immense fun with you guys and I'd like to thank each and every one of you who left me comments for weeks now, gave kudos and stuck with this story till the end.  
> Thanks for all the encouraging, kind words (in comments as well as emails), the constructive critcism, the advice up front from my test reader Barbie and the tireless work of my beta staceykc, who saved you guys quite a couple of typos. 
> 
> XOXO


	27. Art Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a lovely drawing of the scene by the lake, when Rick wraps both him and Daryl in his jacket. One of my favorite aaawww-scenes. :-)
> 
> Thanks a bunch to the wonderful **ssyn3** for drawing this for me. I think it's adorable!!

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2yn1354)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the upload worked this time!! Let me know if you can see the pic okay.  
> Thanks!!


	28. Photos and last words

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2im3ww3)

The lake and the boat

 

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=eiwjk)

This picture inspired the S-shaped birch tree Daryl points out to Rick in chapter 1

 

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2dvvrqb)

The white roebuck. I never got a better pic of him, sorry. 

 

I had a few questions after the last chapter and apparently some people feel there are a few open threads. So to make you lovely peeps happy ...

Yes, Carol finds her special _one_ , too. She and Tobin fall in love and she moves in with him a few months later. She keeps baking her chocolate chip Christmas cookies, of which the neighbors get their fair share, including the Grimes across the street. There are always a few extra just for Daryl. Carol and Tobin have several lovely, little _garden gnomes_ and her Indian Chrysantemum grows and blooms just lovely again the following autumn. Daryl never picks them again, because otherwise there'd be no more chocolate chip cookies for him. 

A year after Rick and Daryl adopted little baby Judith, they take in a six-year-old orphaned boy named Carl, so Judy gets a big brother. Both children pretty much grow up in the woods, at the lake and the little cave and although years later there is finally cell phone service in those woods, neither Rick, nor Daryl or their kids could care less. Rick has long since gotten more than one picture of Daryl and doesn't even bring his cell along on outings into the woods any longer.  
And once in a while Catherine and Jim are still happy to be babysitters to Judith and Carl, so Rick and Daryl can enjoy their lake and cave aaaallll to themselves. 

The white roebuck is still around and leads a happy, carefree life. 

The Morales live in Terminus a while longer, but Daryl takes the kids trick-or-treating in _Hilltop_ every single year. With Jim and Rick's help Julio Morales finally gets a better job than the one he had before and Carol rents her old house to them for a special price. No one in _Hilltop_ still has a problem with a nice immigrant family moving into their white picket fence neighborhood (or they don't dare say so when Carol is around). 

And, yes, of course they live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> I sooooooo love to hear your opinion, peeps. Please drop me a line.   
> I accept comments from guest readers as well, so everyone who'd like to share their thougths is welcome to!


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